Jesus, Are You There? Part 1
by KJesusRocks
Summary: This is my child abuse story about a boy trying to follow Christ while his mother brutally abuses him. To my dear friends who are reading this, please dont be upset by the brutalty of her abuse and all the swearing. I apologize for any shocking things.


Jesus, Are You There?

_**Could you keep faith in Him if you were abused?**_

**Written By:**

**Kelsey **

**Jonathan Peachy **lives with his mother and two older brothers in the town of Mifflinburg, Pennsylvania. He's always been so used to harsh punishments, but begins to realize they are abuse when he notices how other families are. At first, he tries to dismiss it as his mother just having depression because she has three boys.

After a while, he realizes that it's a twisted mind she has. What can he do to protect himself from her angry lashes during the day? Who can he go to for help when his brothers are always out with their girlfriends?

Jonathan does not have very many friends at school, for he is usually scarred-up and smells bad. The one friend he makes, brings him some of the most confusing questions and new beginnings.

All Jonathan ever knew of was the earth existing because it did, but one visit to his friend's church changes it all. Can Jonathan believe that there really is a God, especially since he doesn't seem to be there for him?

**Chapter 1**

**Watching Is Pure Punishment**

"Get out and stay out until you've learned how to look at Mommy properly!" Kimberly Peachy yelled to her seven and a half year-old son.

Jonathan watched as the door slammed shut in his face. He sat down on the sidewalk at the curb, and watched as the other children in the town played. He wished his mother would let him play like that.

A child then swore at another, causing a parent to come rushing out. Rather than hitting the child as Jonathan was used to, they told them it was wrong and grounded them.

Jonathan gritted his teeth. Why were they punished fairly, and he wasn't?

The parent looked over at him, eyes curious. "You got a problem, sonny?" she asked, hand on hip.

Jonathan shook his head. _Guess all black people talk like that, _he decided, referring to the "sonny" part.

Another family came out soon, the parents teasing and the children laughing. They then tossed a Frisbee back and forth, teasing each other along the way.

Jonathan clenched his hands into tight fists until his knuckles turned white. His left eye twitched in anger, and he felt the need to swear. He knew it would give him twenty lashes on the back doing so, but what else could he do? It may even reward him with a dose of window cleaner.

The more Jonathan watched the family, the more angry he became. Something inside his body nearly burst, but he couldn't figure out what. It couldn't be his heart, his mother had told him a long time ago he didn't have one, just a black hole.

The sun came overhead and blinded Jonathan's eyes. _Good, now I can't see those idiots!_ he thought, looking at the sidewalk. It was a beautiful day, but to Jonathan it was another miserable day of life he had to endure. Why enjoy the day when it was just like a hell on earth?

Jonathan thought that over. _I don't even believe in hell. . ._

"Good job, Bobby, keep going!" the mother cheered, jumping up and down.

Jonathan sucked in a deep breath. He hadn't realized he was sticking his middle finger up at the family until the mother came stomping up to him.

Hair tangled from the breeze, she hollered, "What do you think you're doing, flipping off my family?"

"Yeah, fuck you!" he screamed, tears stinging his eyes.

"Do you want to bring your mother in this?" she demanded, eyes serious.

Jonathan shook his head. "Please don't, she'll give me twenty lashes and some window cleaner-I can't breathe with that stuff!" he begged.

"Yeah right."

"Look at me!" He rolled up his shirt and revealed healing lash marks. "See it?"

He turned to see she had returned to her family. He rolled his eyes at her. "Everyone's an asshole."

He sat there a while longer, then was directed to return back inside. His eyebrows raised when "Mommy" allowed him to stay the night inside, especially since she'd kicked him out earlier.

"Mommy wants to know if you know where Casey and Andrew are," his mother told him in her strange voice.

Jonathan shrugged. "They don't tell me nothing," he replied.

"Anything," she corrected, duck lips smacking together.

He rolled his eyes when she wasn't looking.

"Did you learn a lesson?" she asked, eyes big.

"Yeah, 'specially since there was a happy family outside playin'," he sighed.

Kim pushed him to the floor and laughed in her strange way. "Good, now stay on the floor so Mommy can stomp on you!" she ordered, picking up her booted foot.

Jonathan squeezed his eyes tightly and awaited the first blow. _Crack! _A horrifying pain shot through his ribs, and he opened his eyes. He looked over to his "Mommy," who had a pale face.

"Jonnythan, nothing cracked did it?" she asked, brown eyes great in size.

Jonathan's chin quivered and tears were approaching. He couldn't bring himself to talk, for he was almost sure it'd bring unbearable pain to his ribcage. _Who the hell does she think she is?_

"Jonnythan, answer Mommy!" she demanded, worry on her ugly face.

Jonathan's lips slowly opened, then shut again. He knew it would nearly kill him to speak. Slowly, he closed his eyes and pretended to fall asleep.

Kim kicked his side. Her eyes wide, she said, "Wake up, Mommy needs to know if you're okay!"

Jonathan did not stir. _You know I'm not okay, dumbbell!_

**Chapter 2**

**Norman**

Jonathan climbed up the bus steps on Monday, excited to get away from Kim and her awful boots. She could kill his father with those!

Jonathan chose a seat in the way back, hoping not to seek any attention. He didn't like people paying attention to him, especially the ones who made fun of his extreme shortness and baby face.

The bus jerked forward, making Jonathan bang his head on the window. He winced, but tried to stay quiet.

"Hey shortcake, be careful next time!" one of the eighth graders shouted.

Jonathan clenched his fists tightly together. _Don't call me shortcake!_ he thought to himself. _Why do people always make me feel like shit?_

"Shortcake, are you listenin' to me?" he demanded, turning around in his seat.

Jonathan sat upright, although it hurt his ribs. "Yeah, just didn't answer, asshole," he replied weakly.

"Miz Weller, Jonathan Peachy's swearin' on the bus!" the bully shouted.

Ms. Weller, pulled over, then pounded over to Jonathan's seat. She yanked him up by the ear, then dragged him down the aisle.

Jonathan's face heated up when he noticed all the faces staring at him. His ear hurt immensely, but the thing that hurt the most was his "black hole." He felt so embarrassed and humiliated, yet what could he do?

Finally, the bus driver pushed him out the bus and closed the door. "You can walk the rest of the way to school!"

Jonathan laughed. He didn't mind walking, he didn't need a bus anyways! His mother had hired one to take him to school and back because she "worried" about him. His school was in the town where he lived!

Jonathan lumbered along, wishing he had a different life. He was always being punished-by the school or by "Mommy." "Why me?" he asked aloud, tears choking him.

He finally arrived at the school. He ran inside and headed to his first grade classroom.

"Jonathan, you're late!" Mrs. Eck scolded.

Jonathan nodded, then took his seat. _Hope I don't hafta miss another recess and get a note sent home, Mommy'll kill me!_

Mrs. Eck glared at him as she scribbled down a note. She then placed it on his desk, eyes angry.

Jonathan opened the note and read it.

_Jonathan, see me before recess. I need to talk to you about your lateness._

Jonathan closed the note and stared up at the teacher. He wanted to do his best to concentrate, which was quite unusual for him.

"Jonathan, what's the answer to two plus five?" Mrs. Eck asked suddenly.

"Huh?"

"You weren't paying attention, were you?"

Jonathan squinted his eyes. "I thought I was," he replied. He shook himself, then opened his eyes wide.

"Well you weren't, in the hall!" she snapped, pointing to the door.

Jonathan's face flushed red and he gulped. Slowly, he made his way out the door and stood against the wall. Filled with embarrassment, he slowly knelt down to the floor, crying. His back was pressed tightly against the wall, it was as if his knees were weakening. He was always being punished, and nobody ever gave a care about his feelings.

He watched with sad eyes as some of the staff walked by him, their faces uncaring. They noticed him, but did not care. In their eyes, he was a very misbehaved child. He'd swore at them twice, punched a kid, and was always getting sent to the principal's office.

Mr. Widener walked by, then stopped. "Jonathan Peachy, in trouble once again, eh?" he asked, not amused.

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably. "Yes, Mr. Widener," he replied quietly.

Mr. Widener knelt down to his level, apparently annoyed. "What'd you do this time?"

Jonathan felt the back of his neck burn. "I-I wasn't payin' attention in class," he gulped. "I thought I was, I tried. I donno, I just couldn't."

Mr. Widener's gray eyebrows raised. "Well, will I be seeing you in my office today?" he wondered, voice deep.

Jonathan wanted to curse at him, but it would do no good. Instead, he shrugged. "I sure hope not," he mumbled, thinking to the last time he had been in the principal's office. His mother had beat him with the buckle of his father's belt. _Dad didn't do a damn thing to stop it either,_ he remembered, getting teary-eyed.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Widener asked suddenly.

"Nothin', just thinking 's'all." He sighed deeply, then closed his eyes tightly. _One, two, three, make him go away! _He opened his eyes again to find Mr. Widener gone. "Phew!"

At recess time, Jonathan walked up to the teacher's desk for a talk. He was somewhat afraid, yet he'd been through worse than just a talk with a mean teacher.

"Jonathan, why were you late for class today?"

"Kicked off the bus," he answered, hands in pockets.

"But you live in town. . ."

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, yeah, long story. I just got kicked off and was late."

"Alright, should we talk to your parents about transportation?" she asked.

Jonathan shook his head fiercely. "No, I can't let my mom know I've been kicked off!" he cried, shivering.

"Whatever, you may go now."

Jonathan went as fast as he could without getting pulled over by the teachers. When he was finally outside, he ran off to a tree and sat down. Today he didn't feel like bullying the nerds, playing football, or tampering with the school. Today was a day for thinking.

Norman looked over at Jonathan with sorry eyes. _I think all he needs is a friend, _he thought to himself. Norman was a nerdy kid-one Jonathan always picked on. That made no difference to him, he believed in forgiving all. This was because Norman was being raised in a good Christian family.

Being who he was, Norman strolled over to Jonathan. "Hey, wanna talk?" he asked.

"No thanks, Norman, I'm busy right now," he replied with a heavy sigh.

"You sure, I'm a good listening?" he pried, smiling oddly.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Why are you tryin' to help me, I always pick on ya?" he wondered.

"Because that's what God wants." He looked up to the sky with a smile. "God wants love, and happiness on earth."

"Who?" Jonathan demanded, giving Norman a strange look.

"God, ain't you ever been to church?" Norman asked him.

Jonathan shook his head. "Nah, my mom says that they don't believe in proper discipline."

"Huh?"

Jonathan waved his hand. "Don't ask me. My mom's half crazy, half devil."

Norman gulped. "You sure you wanna use those words?" he asked.

Jonathan stood up. "Yes, I always do. My mom's the devil himself, only in a woman's body." He laughed a little. "Even looks like him with some of the faces she's a-makin'."

"Well, if you want to try out church, my family would be glad to take you. I'm sure you'll like it."

Jonathan thought a moment. "Mom probably won't let me, 'sidering she don't like all them religious freaks."

Norman straightened his back. "Who are you calling a religious freak?" he demanded, face scrunched up.

"Hey, that's what my mom calls you people. I just take after her, don't know why."

Norman shrugged. "Well, I'd like to be your friend. You seem to be all alone and upset."

Jonathan waved his hand. "That's alright, I'm used to it," he sighed.

Norman walked off, proud of his efforts to help Jonathan. "Poor kid, he never was at church," he mumbled under his breath.

Jonathan watched as the nerdy kid left. He appreciated his efforts, but did not want to be seen with such a nerdy person. "Thanks, Norman," he whispered.

During class, Jonathan tried harder than ever to pay attention to Mrs. Eck. He gave himself a headache just trying to listen and hang on her every word.

"Jonathan, are you feeling alright?" she asked, noticing his hurting expression.

"Yeah, just have a headache s'all," he replied, rubbing his forehead.

"How come?"

Jonathan smiled. "Tryin' to pay attention to you." He gave her this naughty smile.

Mrs. Eck smiled back, surprisingly. "Well, try not to concentrate as much, okay?"

He nodded, then lay his head on his desk. "I'm still listenin'," he reassured her.

She went on teaching, trying not to bother Jonathan. For some reason, she believed he was paying attention. _Well, he is a good kid, when he wants to be, _she thought to herself.

"Hey, Norman!" Jonathan called, running up to the kid as they headed out the school doors.

Norman turned, a knowing smile on his face. "Yes?" he asked.

"Thanks for talkin' to me today at recess. We should hang out sometime." He smiled and held out his hand.

"Deal." Norman shook the boy's hand, then ran out to his mother's car.

Jonathan made his way down the sidewalk, heading to his house. _Maybe I have hope yet._

**Chapter 3**

**Shortcake **

Billy Dixon strolled by Jonathan's house on a breezy Wednesday afternoon. He stopped when he noticed Jonathan mowing the lawn. _Haha, shortcake is gonna get it for being in my sight!_ he thought to himself.

Jonathan came over to the front yard and tried to ignore Billy as he mowed the lawn. _Pretend Billy's just an out-of-place-jackass, _he told himself repeatedly.

"Hey shortcake, whatcha doin'?" Billy bellowed.

Jonathan did not reply. _Out-of-place-jackass, out-of-place-jackass._

Billy grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face him. He whacked him in the eye, making him fall to the ground. "You answer me, shortcake!"

Jonathan's chest heaved up and down as he breathed heavily. He covered his eye with one hand and shielded the other eye with his other hand. "I-I'm just m-mowin' the l-lawn," he said shakily.

"Why, 'cause your mommy told you to?" he laughed.

Jonathan felt his jaw tighten. "No, 'cause my dad told me to or else," he replied.

"So you listen to your daddy?"

Jonathan jerked himself up, angry as a boy could be. "You have no idea what the 'or else' is!" he yelled, face red.

"Ooh, I'm so scared, shortcake!" he exclaimed, slapping his fat knee.

"I ain't tryin' to scare you, I'm just saying."

Billy laughed evilly. "Well, don't say anything!" he spat, picking Jonathan up by his shirt. He carried him over to the house and slammed him against it. He brought his giant knee up to Jonathan's privets and kneed them.

Jonathan cried out in pain and reached down. "What the hell, Billy!" he screamed, wincing.

Kim burst open the door and gave her son a penetrating look. "Jonathan Scott Peachy, what do you think you're doing, swearing?" she demanded.

"He swore at me, Miz Peachy!" Billy bawled, face in hands.

"Aw Billy, I'm so sorry. Mommy'll teach Jonathan, trust me." She grabbed Jonathan by the britches and dragged him inside.

"Shortcake," Billy mouthed as the door closed.

Jonathan felt like he was in a prison when the door closed. He looked for anything to shield him, but nothing was around. The boy closed his eyes tightly as his shirt was removed.

Kim went into her bedroom, then returned with his father's belt in her hand. She had the buckle end ready to pound him. Forcefully, she lashed at his back, breaking open the skin.

Jonathan whimpered and tears fell. He grabbed the chair leg for something to squeeze. _Lash! _Jonathan squeezed it even harder.

"Mommy doesn't want to hear swearing anymore!" she yelled as she thrashed him once more.

Jonathan's chin quivered, and his eyes were filled with fear. There was nobody around to help him, nobody at all. _Is there maybe a God like Norman said? _he wondered before the fourth lash came.

After his twenty back lashes, Jonathan was to drink window cleaner.

Kim opened his mouth, then poured a good amount of cleaner in his mouth.

Jonathan slowly gulped it down, then felt this hot sensation in his mouth. It seemed to clog up his lungs too, for he couldn't breathe. Jonathan ran to the kitchen sink for a glass of water. He poured it down his throat, but it didn't help much.

Thinking quickly, he ran to the living room where his father was. He frantically pointed to his mouth, then to his lungs.

His father looked up from the paper, sadness in his eyes. He shook his head sadly, then returned to his paper.

Jonathan threw himself onto the floor, trying anything to get himself to feel better. "Help. . .me!" he cried. He had one arm reaching up into the air, fingers trying to grasp something-anything.

"Kim, how do we help him?" he asked suddenly.

Kim glared at him. "We don't try to help him, Mommy wants him to learn a lesson," she replied curtly. "It'll blow over soon."

Jonathan stared fearfully at Kim. He wasn't sure if he'd live through this one, especially since it was getting worse by the second. _I'll soon die-die without knowing what love's like, _he thought, tears stinging his eyes.

"Jonnythan, calm down!" she scolded, smiling a little. "Mommy doesn't want you making a scene. What if someone were to hear?"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "I. . .can't. . .breathe!" he choked, hitting his chest. "Please. . .help. . .me!"

"Mommy says no!" Kim screeched, slamming her fists on the coffee table.

After about an hour or so, Jonathan could breathe completely well again. His swollen back was still hurting, but it would for a good many more days. Lashings always lasted a long time.

_Shortcake. He sure did get shortcake in a heap of trouble. _Jonathan made his way back out the door and finished mowing the lawn.

Norman rode through Mifflinburg with his mother and noticed Jonathan. "Mother, can you pull over?" he asked, eyes eager.

"Sure, why?" she replied.

"My new friend, Jonathan Peachy, is over there," he told her, pointing to the working boy.

Norman hopped out of the van and hurried over to Jonathan. "Hi Jonathan!" he greeted, startling him.

"Hey Norman, whatcha doin' here?"

"Mother and I were just going to McDonald's and we noticed you." Norman pointed to the green van with an Eastern Mennonite lady inside.

Jonathan's eyes nearly bugged out of his head. "You're Amish?" he asked, looking Norman up and down.

"No, silly, I'm Eastern Mennonite."

"Same diff," Jonathan mumbled.

"What are you doing?" Norman wondered, looking at the lawn mower.

"Mowin' for my dad," he answered. He pointed to the house and whispered, "He's as lazy as a pig."

Norman chuckled. "Well, do you think it'd be alright if you came along?"

Jonathan shook his head. "Nah, I'm still probably in trouble with my mom. I swore at Billy Dixon and got twenty lashes and some window cleaner." He turned around, lifted up his shirt, and revealed the welts.

Norman backed away. "Maybe some other time then, see ya!"

Jonathan waved slightly and watched them drive away. "Norman, you sure are lucky. You're mom looks nice and normal." He thought back to his own "Mommy." "She's nothing more than a dumb-ass bitch."

**Chapter 4**

**Attending A Mennonite Church**

Jonathan prepared for his first time of going to church. He had been invited a few days ago by Norman to visit his church.

After dressing, he waited anxiously for them to arrive. He wanted to get away from Kim and his older brothers. They were both fighting over some girl. Because they were fighting, Mommy was very violent. Jonathan hated to be around her when she was mean.

"Mommy doesn't like religious freaks, but it'll get you out of the house," Kim told him, glaring at his brothers. "Casey, Andrew you are being silly! Stop fighting, it makes Mommy mad."

"Shut up, Kimberly!" Casey ordered, pushing his brother against the wall.

Kim made the ugliest face possible and grabbed her husband's black belt. Fiercely, she struck Casey on the back, making him let go of Andrew.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he demanded, turning on Kim.

Kim held up the belt. "You be nice to Mommy!" she yelled, flinging her belt forward.

Casey ducked and it hit Andrew.

Andrew sucked in a deep breath, trying not to show how much it had hurt. _When I'm eighteen, I'll kick your ass off the planet, _he thought to himself.

The doorbell rang and Jonathan ran to answer it. "Hi Norman," he greeted, face brightening.

"Norman, please come in and let Mommy get a good look at you."

Jonathan smacked his forehead. _You have to call yourself Mommy in front of my friend, don't you?_ He smiled apologetically at Norman.

Norman stepped forward, a little unsure of himself. "Hello Mrs. Peachy," he said, smiling a fake smile.

"Hello honey, you can just call me mommy," she told him, making Jonathan even more embarrassed.

Norman gave Jonathan a confused glance, then smiled sweetly at Kim. "Well, nice meeting you. We'd better get going, Mother doesn't like being late for church."

He then lead Jonathan out the door. "What's up with the whole 'mommy' thing?" he asked once they were outside.

Jonathan shrugged, completely humiliated. "Don't ask, she's always like that."

They climbed into the van and drove off.

"So Jonathan, I hear from Norman you've never been to church," Grace Stoltzfus said, smiling.

Jonathan nodded. "Mom thinks it's stupid."

Grace raised her eyebrows. "I can reassure you, it isn't stupid," she told him.

"That's good," he sighed. He turned to Norman. "Who's this God fella you've been talkin' about?"

"God, oh he's our creator."

Jonathan gave him a strange look. "Wouldn't that mean our parents are God?" he asked.

Norman laughed. "No, everything was created by God. You see, he's been around for forever. He created the earth, sun, moon, and the first humans. They were Adam and Eve."

Jonathan nodded as if understanding what Norman was saying. "What does God look like?" he wondered, growing very curious.

"I guess he looks like his only son, Jesus," he replied. "Jesus was the Messiah, the one who saved us from our sins. Jesus was born to Mary the virgin, being God's son."

Jonathan gave Norman an odd look. "What are sins?"

"The bad things we do."

Finally, they arrived at the church. "Here, you will learn just about everything you need to know about God and Jesus."

They stepped inside, then took their seats. Jonathan was amazed at how many people believed in this God. "Do all these people honestly believe in God?" he whispered.

Norman nodded. "Yes, they do," he replied.

Jonathan couldn't imagine all of these people being good, solid, true Christians. Rather than asking if he was sure, he faced the preacher and waited for the sermon to begin.

Finally, the sermon began. "Today, my good people, I'd like to talk about Jesus and what he did for us. Many of you know and think, 'Well yeah, he saved us from our sins on the cross.' Do you truly know what that means?" He cleared his throat. "It means that Jesus gave us a chance at eternal life. We've sinned so much in our lives, we most certainly aren't worthy of living in Heaven. In my opinion, we all deserve to spend eternity in hell."

Jonathan gulped. _I've done one too many bad things in my life._

"Because Jesus is such a kind and forgiving person or spirit, we may ask forgiveness and if we truly mean it, He'll forgive us." He paused so the people could think a moment.

Jonathan could hardly believe that there was someone who'd forgive him for all he'd done. He was only seven and had caused more than enough trouble.

After speaking more on forgiveness, they prayed. Jonathan didn't know the first thing about praying, so he just knelt and thought. _Sure wish I knew how to pray to ya. . ._

After more talking and praying, they had a visiting time. All the children headed outside to play. Jonathan, however, did not want to play. He wanted to talk to Norman. "Hey Norman!" he called, running up to him.

"What is it, Jonathan?"

Jonathan gulped. "My mom, she doesn't love me," he whispered. "If she don't, my own mom, how do I know God does?"

"Because He died on the cross for you," Norman replied with a smile.

Jonathan shrugged. "But I'm unlovable!" he protested, eyes getting misty. "Mom, she told me I'm-I'm unlovable by everyone. I-I'll never get married, nobody will love me in that way." He sucked in a lot of air, then continued. "Dad doesn't even try to help me when Mom-when she. . ."

Norman nodded, wanting him to go on. "When she what?"

"Thrashes me 'til I bleed," he finished, voice quivering.

Norman closed his eyes momentarily. "It isn't just a parental spanking?" he wondered.

Jonathan made big eyes and shook his head. He sat down in the grass and sighed. "It's never been a spankin'. I-I've always been beaten. Usually on the back, sometimes on my face. On occasion, my rear end." He turned away, thinking he'd said too much.

Norman bowed his head in prayer. _Lord, oh Lord, please help Jonathan. His mother beats him badly, and he needs help. Please Lord, make her stop if it's Your will. Help him to have faith in You, even though times are rough. Thank You, Lord, amen._

Jonathan patted his arm gently. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked.

Norman looked up at the sky. "I just prayed for you," he replied, still smiling.

**Chapter 5**

**Praying To God**

"Jonnythan, get dressed nicely, Grandma and Grandpa Long are coming over for a visit, and Mommy wants you to look decent!" Kim ordered, looking at his outfit.

Jonathan nodded, then ran back to his bedroom. Quickly, he dressed in nice dress pants and a dress shirt-the very outfit he had worn to Norman's church.

He stepped before his bedroom mirror and looked at himself. He grabbed his comb and neatly parted his hair. _Grammy Long will scold my mom and she'll kill me if my hair isn't just so!_ he thought to himself.

After making sure he looked alright, he sat down beside his father in the living room. "Hey Dad, can we go out since Grammy and Pappy Long are coming?" he asked, eyes twinkling with hope.

His father shook his head. "No, your mother would be crushed. Besides, it would be rude to do so."

Jonathan hopped off the couch and lumbered into Andrew and Casey's room. "Whatcha doin'?" he asked them.

"Promise you ain't gonna tell Mom?" Casey asked, hiding what he had been looking at.

"Cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye. Now, what's up?"

"We're gonna put drugs in Grandma Long's drink," Casey whispered, a smile creeping across his face.

Jonathan covered his mouth to keep from laughing. "Do ya think it'll work?" he wondered.

Casey motioned for him to get closer. "It better, or we'll commit suicide," he replied, putting his arm around Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded. "Better than Mom killing us."

"My point exactly."

Jonathan left the room, smiling slightly. "She'll never know," he mumbled under his breath.

"Hi Jonnythan, are you excited for them to come over to Mommy?" she asked, pulling a pie out of the oven.

"Sure, I guess," he sighed, walking right past her.

Kim placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "Why do you seem so upset?" she wondered.

Jonathan turned to her, face red. "It ain't really for telling," he said.

Kim's eyes bugged out of her head. "Tell Mommy!" she ordered.

Jonathan shook his head. He looked up into her demanding eyes, fear in his own. "Let's just leave it at that. I'm fine, really. I just got some thinking to do."

Kim nodded. "Okay, well you tell Mommy if you need someone to talk to."

Jonathan walked past her and over to the fridge. He took out a juice pouch and went outside.

Once outside, he started sipping. He sat on the edge of the steps, sorrow on his face. "I don't want Grammy Long to come over," he whined. "She'll find something wrong with Mom's upbringin', and Mom will skin me for it."

Jonathan squeezed his pouch tightly. His eyes squinted. "Some people live a normal life," he said, squeezing the pouch tighter, "and other's live a hell." The juice splattered all over the steps and on his hand.

He sat there for the longest time, until he heard a door slam shut. Immediately, he stood up, eyes alert.

"Kimberly, we're here!" Margret called-his grandmother. She bounded over to the stairs, leaving her husband behind.

Jonathan ran inside and flung himself onto the recliner. He hid his face in his knees, hoping they would turn around and leave.

"Jonathan!" she exclaimed, lumbering toward him.

Jonathan lifted his head, a petrified look on his face.

She grabbed his face and started kissing his cheeks with her slobbery lips. "Ooh, you got so big!" she cried.

Jonathan wished she'd let go. Her welcome kisses always lasted an eternity!

Finally, she pulled back and turned to Kim. "My, my, you've got some ugly children," she commented, heading for the fridge.

Jonathan scowled at her back. _If I'm ugly, then what are you?_

"Where are the other two?" Margret asked Kim.

Kim shrugged. "Jonnythan, do you know where they are?" she wondered, wide-eyed.

"I think they're in their bedroom," he replied, not very interested in the conversation. He tugged at his socks, bored out-of-his-mind.

When Margret made it inside, he heard a quick scream and the scrambling of objects. He laughed at how much she had scared them. Shaking his head, he whispered, "They sure do get themselves in a heap of trouble."

"Jonnythan, why don't you come talk to Grandpa Long?" Kim suggested, pointing to her father.

"'Cuz I don't want to," he answered plainly.

Kim yanked him up by the arm and pushed him into the kitchen. "Say hello to Grandpa."

"Hi."

"Hi Jonathan. How have you been lately?"

Jonathan crossed his arms. "Whatcha think, I live here, don't I?"

Kim reached down and smacked his bottom. "Hehe," she giggled awkwardly.

Jonathan gave her a quick glare, then looked back at his grandfather. "That's exactly what I'm talking about," he whispered.

"Huh?"

He waved his hand in the air, afraid his mother would swat him again if he repeated. "Never mind, it's nothing," he mumbled.

"You sure?"

He nodded, pouting a little. "Mom, can I call Norman? I wanna talk to him 'bout goin' to his church again."

Kim crossed her arms and gave him these gigantic eyes. "Ahem!" she coughed, giving him one of her ugly looks.

Jonathan looked up at her and shook his head, thinking, _What? _

"Mommy _may _I _please _call Norman," she corrected.

"Mom, may I please call Norman?" he repeated.

She nodded, then lead her father into the living room.

Jonathan picked up the phone, pretended to dial numbers, then hung it back up. Slowly, he crept over to the back door and creaked it open.

"Jonathan?" Margret called, bounding over to him.

"Shit," he whispered, closing the door back up. He turned to her, a scowl on his face. "What?" he demanded, tone mean.

"Kimberly, your son is talking rudely to me! I must go into his bedroom and have a talk with him!" She dragged him by the arm to his bedroom, slamming the door loudly behind her.

Jonathan watched in horror as he was flung onto his bed. Eyes wide, he watched her every move.

"You do not ever talk to elders like that!" she yelled lazily.

Jonathan nearly died of boredom as she rambled on and on about how "naughty" he was being. He bobbed his head up and down as she nagged. He was getting really frustrated and wanted to go to bed. _Would you shut the hell up already?_

"Do you understand why it's rude to talk that way to your elders?" she asked, one hour later.

Jonathan nodded as he had before, completely annoyed. His butt was cramped from sitting for so long, and he was ready to fall asleep.

Margret limped to the living room, a satisfied look on her ugly face. _I've talked him well,_ she thought proudly.

Jonathan smacked his forehead and groaned. "What the hell is her problem?" he wondered aloud.

"Jonnythan!" he heard his "Mommy" call.

Jonathan stomped over to the living room, a scowl on his tired face. "What?"

"Go get your brothers, please," she ordered, smiling oddly. Her head was titled slightly and eyes were big and dreamy.

Jonathan ran to their room and burst through the door. "Dudes, Mom wants you to come out," he said, nearly out of breath.

Andrew and Casey staggered out, annoyed looks in their eyes. Once in the living room, they took a seat across from Kim, Margret, and Ronald. "What's it you wanted us for, dude?" Casey asked her.

"First off, I'm Mommy. Second, I wanted you to spend some time with Grandma and Grandpa Long." She crossed her legs, which looked odd for someone who dressed like a tomboy. Kim, although a soft-voiced woman, always wore a T-shirt of some kind, jeans, and men boots.

Jonathan crept by the family as Margret bored the boys with one of her childhood stories. _She always has the same ending. "And my father came out and gave them a whipping."_

"Jonathan, don't you want to hear the story about when these boys were peeking at me at the swimming hole?" she asked, noticing him as he crept by.

His shoulders slumped. "Let me guess, your father came out and gave them whippings?" he sighed, putting his hands in his pockets.

"How did you know? I haven't told this story before." Her hillbilly teeth showed through her confused smile.

Jonathan's mouth fell open. "Jeez, you always have the same ending! Even when it doesn't fit in with the story, he came out and gave them a whipping!" He clenched his hand into a tight fist and pretended to hit something.

His shirt lifted up and his belly showed.

Margret fell back in the couch and covered her mouth. "You're shirt isn't tucked in!" she exclaimed, standing up. "We need another talk."

Jonathan followed her into his bedroom, giving his brothers one last angry glance. Why did they always get the good end of everything?

Margret sat him down and explained to him why it wasn't proper to have his shirt hanging out. "You look like a hobo when you do that," she scolded.

Jonathan bobbed his head up and down, not caring about anything she said. _If I look like a hobo, then what do you look like with them teeth?_

She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Are you paying attention to Grandma, youngster?" she demanded, making one of the weird faces his mother usually made.

He nodded. "Yeah."

"Then why don't you act like it?"

He shrugged. "I'm just a kid, I guess," he replied.

After their long talk, she finally left him alone. Rather than annoying Jonathan, she decided to scold Kim on her parenting.

"You need to learn to raise your children better. By golly, that Jonathan is as naughty as a child could be! When he's older, he's likely to become an America's Most Wanted!" She waved her hand. "Get me some lemonade."

"Jonnythan, get Grandma Long some lemmynade!" she ordered, scrubbing a dish.

Jonathan poured a tall class full of lemonade and carried it over to her. Suddenly, he tripped over something and the drink went flying. It spilled all over Margret, and his head hit the table.

He lay on the kitchen floor, scrunched up in a ball. Moans and whines came from him, but all attention was on "poor Grandma Long."

A few minutes later, he realized Margret had left with her husband, very mad at Jonathan. She "just couldn't stay with that naughty child."

He looked up at Kim, fear in his eyes.

Kim stomped over to him. "Mommy is so mad at you!" she yelled. She turned around, then faced him again with a knife in her hand.

Jonathan backed up under the table. "Mom, please don't!" he pleaded with puppy-dog eyes.

Kim knelt down and tried to stab him. She missed, leaving a mark in the floor.

Jonathan couldn't move. His body was paralyzed with fear as she prepared to stab once more.

Suddenly, a sickening feeling made him faint back. He looked all around, vision blurred. When he looked down, he saw a pile of blood and a hole in his belly.

Kim stepped back, surprised at what she had just done. "Jonnythan, get up and show Mommy you're okay!" she demanded, face pale.

Jonathan moaned. "I. . .can't," he just barely whined.

Kim gulped. "Do it!"

Jonathan tried to force himself up, but a sharp pain gnawed at his stomach. He let himself fall back, making him bang his head off the floor. "Ugh!" he groaned, reaching for his head.

Jonathan suddenly noticed his father's shoes. "Dad. . ."

His father just stood there silently, staring at his bleeding son. _I'm here Jonathan, I'm here._

Tears stung Jonathan's eyes. "Please. . .someone help me!" he begged, slowly moving his hand to his stomach.

His father still did not say anything. His face was blank, but his eyes were kind. Jonathan noticed he was playing with his necktie, realizing his father was scared.

Kim edged closer, no longer afraid at what she had just done. Instantly, she began kicking him in the ribs, yelling some curse words.

Jonathan couldn't breathe very well anymore. Each blow made him more and more close to death. _Lord please, spare my life. I'm sorry for being a bad boy, I'll try to stop. Just please, make my mother stop kicking me! God please, I need you now._

The kicks subsided and Kim was gone.

He looked up and noticed she was lying on the floor, grabbing her head. She had hit her head off the table. _Thanks God, you stopped her and punished her. I pray you can help me to continue having faith in you and become a better boy. Amen._

**Chapter 6**

**Hospitalized**

Jonathan felt himself lifted into the back on an ambulance, then drove away. He could sense the worry the medics had, but couldn't see them.

Kim was huddled in a corner, bawling her eyes out. Her husband was beside her, kissing her hand gently.

"Bitch!" Jonathan blurted out, not realizing he had said it.

Kim jerked up, but settled back down when she realized that people were watching her. "My poor baby!" she bawled.

_Yeah right. Like you honestly care about me. It's all your fault, idiot! _He scrunched up his face and frowned. Tears suddenly streamed down his face, revealing how much pain he was in.

"Are you okay, son?" one of the medics wondered, worry on his face.

Jonathan shook his head slightly. "No," he whispered. "I'll never be okay." He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep.

"Hang in there son, we're almost done," was what Jonathan woke up to.

He opened his eyes, noticing a doctor bandaging up his stomach. He lifted his head and saw Kimberly sitting silently in a chair. "Get her out of here!" he yelled suddenly, pointing a finger at Kim.

The doctor looked at Kim, then at Jonathan. "You're mother?"

Jonathan nodded. "She did this to me. I hate her, take her away!"

The doctor nodded to Kim, telling her to leave.

Reluctantly, she headed to the waiting room, where her husband was located.

Jonathan relaxed when he could no longer feel her presence. He closed his eyes and fell back asleep, dreaming of a life without "dumb-ass Kimberly."

The next time Jonathan woke up, he was alone. A tear trickled down his face as he realized that his mother had put him in this hospital. He knew now it wasn't normal for a mother to treat her child like this, but there was nothing he could do. If he'd tell, she'd surely kill him.

Alarms resounded throughout the entire room and doctors rushed in. "We're losing him!" he heard one shout.

They slammed an oxygen mask over his face and tried to bring up his heartbeat. "Don't die on us!" one person cried.

Jonathan did not try to live. He wanted out of this earth-away from "Mommy." _Please, die me, die. I can't stand life anymore. Plus, my mom will be arrested for murdering her son._

Someone, obviously not a doctor, placed a caring hand on him. They seemed to be making him live.

The great panic suddenly stopped and the doctors relaxed. "I don't know what saved him, but he's alright."

Jonathan opened his eyes. "Jesus, He saved me," he whispered.

"Who?"

"Jesus Christ, the Messiah." He smiled contently.

"It's a good possibility," one man told another.

He nodded. "Yeah, Jesus saves," he agreed, followed by more nodding of other doctors.

Kim stomped in, eyes furious. "I was coming back to check on my Jonnythan and I heard talking of Jesus Christ! There was no such man! There isn't a God! Talk to my son about Christianity, and I'll sue you! We don't need any religious freaks!" She bounded up to Jonathan. "No more Jesus, okay?"

Jonathan gulped. "Then kill me next time, okay? I ain't stopping my religion for you! You're a jackass! God is the only way to happiness. I'm makin' it to Heaven, with or without you! Go ahead, kill me right now. If I can't worship, I may as well die. That way I'll be dying for my Lord."

Kim's face was bright red. "Mommy would never kill you." She crossed her arms.

"You almost did today," he choked.

"I didn't hurt you!" she protested.

Tears trickled down his small cheeks. "Won't you just please admit it? I can't stand you anymore! Please, just say you were trying to kill me!" His heart rate was beginning to go back down, worrying the doctors once more.

"What's wrong?" Mommy screamed.

"We're losing him!"

"Noooooooo!" she cried, falling to her knees.

A bright light filled Jonathan's vision, and it kept growing brighter. A sense of warmth and love filled him. He smiled contently as his heart stopped beating.

Kim bawled as the doctors tried to revive him. She hadn't realized how much she loved Jonathan, nor how much she needed him. "Jonnythan, please come back to Mommy!" she begged, pounding the floor with her fists. "Jonnythan, you must come back to me! I'll cry if you don't!"

"Ma'am, he's gone."

"No I ain't," Jonathan coughed, waking up. "I died, then for some reason God brought me back. I didn't want to come back, but my time on earth isn't over yet." He turned his head to Kim. "I think he wants me to bring Jesus into your life."

"Never!" Kim blurted. "There isn't a God!"

"We'll see what you say a few years from now," he mumbled.

Kim took a seat and watched as he fell back asleep. He was still alive, but who knew for how long? "My dear Jonnythan," she whispered.

Jonathan woke the next morning with pain in his stomach. He was either hungry, or the painkiller had worn off. He couldn't tell which, so he called for some food.

The nurse rushed in with soup. "Here you go, sweetie," she said cheerfully.

"Thank you." He picked up is spoon and slowly brought it up to his mouth.

Kim burst through the door, hair wicked. "Mommy needs to feed you!" she yelled, out-of-breath.

Jonathan's mouth dropped open. "Y-you want to f-feed me?" he wondered.

She nodded. "Yes, why?"

"'Cause you don't give a hoot 'bout me," he replied.

Kim raised her hand and glanced around the room. She smacked his cheek, for no one was watching. "Now, let Mommy feed you!" she yelled in his face.

Jonathan slowly rubbed his red cheek, pouting. _I hope you die and go to hell. _Being new to Christianity, Jonathan didn't realize how terrible it was to wish such a thing on someone. He was just a child too, so he didn't know any better.

Kim pried his mouth open and shoved spoonful after spoonful into his small mouth. She nearly made him eat the spoon!

Jonathan pushed her hand away as he choked on the soup. His face grew bright red as he continued to cough.

Finally, the coughing subsided and he was "ready" to be fed. He opened his own mouth this time.

Abruptly, Kim forced another spoonful down his throat. "Eat it!" she ordered, getting another spoonful ready.

Jonathan gulped quickly, then allowed her to give him some more. After that one, she suddenly stopped.

Jonathan watched with curious eyes as Kim picked up the hot, half-empty bowl. His eyes watched her every move as she took it off the end table.

"Ugh!" he cried, tears streaming down his face. A burning pain filled his bruised stomach, making him cry uncontrollably.

Kim smiled as she set the bowl back on the end table. "There, now it's all in your stomach," she giggled, looking at his swollen bruise.

Jonathan's jaw tightened as he tried to keep himself from crying out in pain. His bruise was probably infected now-infected with soup!

Frustrated whimpers came from the boy as he grabbed the railing on the bed. A part of him wanted to kick Kim, yet another part of him wanted to hug her. Maybe he was just that eager for love-the love a mother would give to her son.

Kim grew bored so she left.

Jonathan let out a pain-filled scream once she was gone. His arms were holding him up, for he was trying to make his anger go away by lifting himself. He couldn't relax, especially not with the terrible burning sensation he felt within him.

The nurse burst through the door, worry on her face. "Sweetie, what happened?" she demanded, eyes serious.

Jonathan broke down in sobs. "My mom-she-she poured half of my soup in my bruise. The soup was really hot too," he sobbed. "Please, help me!"

"Most certainly!" she cried, running to get the doctor.

The doctor followed her to Jonathan's room, curiosity within him. When he saw Jonathan, he hurry got his peroxide and cleaned out the area.

Jonathan screeched as he was doing this. Peroxide always hurt him.

That being done, the doctor ordered for Jonathan to get some rest. He said he had some other patients to tend to, but Jonathan knew better. He knew he was going to phone his mother.

_Of all things, please not her!_ he thought as he slowly closed his eyes.

**Chapter 7**

**Liar, Liar, Pants On Fire**

Once Jonathan was released from the hospital, he was told he was staying with his grandparents until they got their case in court. His doctor had called not only Kim, but the police. His concerns for the boy were a mile long, so he needed to get it out.

"Youngster, get up, we can't be late for court!" Margret called one early November morning.

Jonathan arose and got himself dressed in his best clothes. After dressing, he brushed his teeth and brushed his hair.

They didn't even bother eating breakfast, just went off. Margret wanted to be early, as she always did.

Now there, Jonathan waited with sweaty hands for the court to begin. He didn't want to go against his abusive mother, yet he did want her to be punished. _Lord, please help me through this!_ he prayed.

"Kimberly Peachy, do you solemnly swear to tell the whole truth, the real truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" Judge Michaels asked.

_So help you God, she won't promise God anything!_ Jonathan wanted to say so, but he'd be in trouble if he did.

"Yes," she replied meekly.

"Jonathan Peachy, do you solemnly swear to tell the whole truth, the real truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" he asked.

Jonathan nodded, face pale.

"You may be seated." He fumbled through his files, then looked up. "It appears that child abuse was reported by a doctor at the Evangelical Community Hospital, yes?"

Kim nodded, hands rubbing together.

"Kimberly, do you object to abusing Jonathan?" he wondered, frowning.

Kim's mouth fell open. "Of course Mommy does, Mommy would never do such a thing!" she exclaimed.

"Jonathan, did your mother pour soup in your wound?"

"Y-yes, she did," he replied. "She did it just to hurt me."

Kim slammed her fists on the desk. "No Mommy did not! Mommy never hurt you, and you know it!" she yelled.

The judge angrily slammed down his gavel. "Kimberly, behave in my courtroom!" he scolded, face red. "Now Jonathan, can you tell us how many times your mother has hurt you?"

Jonathan fidgeted in his chair. "She slapped me at the hospital, then poured soup in my belly. Sh-she always is beating me with my dad's belt and kicking me with her boots."

"Is this true, Kimberly?" His eyes were glued to her, obviously believing Jonathan.

"No it is not. Sure, Mommy does spank him, but nothing like he's saying. Mommy loves her little Jonnythan, and Mommy would never try to abuse him."

"Is it true that he was put in the hospital because of a stabbing?" he questioned, eyeing her closely.

Kim nodded shamefully. "Yes, his brother, Casey, stabbed him," she said realistically.

"Jonathan?"

Jonathan jumped up. "What the hell? Casey didn't stab me, you did you asshole! You stabbed me because Grandma Long wasn't pleased with your raisin'! You kicked me afterwards!" He got choked up, but continued. "Won't you please just admit it this once?"

Kim grew angry. "Admit to what? Mommy didn't lay an abusive hand on you!"

Jonathan slammed down his fists. "Yes you did, didn't she Dad? Tell them how she stabbed me!"

His father stood up awkwardly, smiling politely at the judge. "Judge, my son is-is-he is. . ."

"Please continue Mr. Peachy," the judge said encouragingly.

Jonathan closed his eyes and prayed. _Dear God, please make him tell the truth. Please, I need someone to be on my side. God, I need your help! Amen._

All eyes were on Jonathan's father. "My son is lying," he mumbled.

The jury gasped and everyone looked at Jonathan. "That boy should be put in prison for lying to the judge!" he heard one whisper.

Jonathan sunk into his seat, the life nearly knocked out of him. _I hate you God, I hate you! _He tried to hold in the tears as Kim prepared to speak.

"Jonnythan always lies. He's a filthy, bratty, liar." She turned to her son, glaring at him. "You, little mister, are quite a bad boy!"

Jonathan bit his lip. He couldn't yell back, he couldn't even plea innocent. Nobody would believe him.

"Is there any more you'd like to say, Jonathan?"

"Yes, I hate my goddamn life!" he screamed, knocking over his chair.

Once at home, Casey and Andrew ran to their bedroom. They knew a serious beating was coming, and they couldn't stay to watch.

Jonathan stood fearfully before Kim, expecting his father's belt to come lashing at him.

Kim grabbed a wooden spoon from her kitchen drawer and bent Jonathan over. Forcefully, she smacked his rear end one hundred times. After spanking him, she grabbed her lighter.

Jonathan, still bending over, had no idea that she had just grabbed it. He stood there, expecting to be kicked in the behind.

Kim switched it on and lit the seat of his pants.

Jonathan soon caught on and began jumping around the house screaming. He tried to get the flames out, but they just wouldn't leave. "Oh, my butt!" he yelled.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire!" Kim howled, nearly falling over with laughter. "That's what you get for _lying._"

Jonathan couldn't believe his luck! Why was he always getting into the deepest trouble? He knew one thing, he hated Kimberly Peachy.

**Chapter 8**

"**Dumpster Boy"**

Jonathan slowly walked to school, afraid for the first day. He was starting his first day of intermediate school, which meant he had to make a good first impression. All the students from New Berlin, Mifflinburg, and Buffalo Crossroads were going to be there. He couldn't embarrass himself today.

Jonathan noticed several other children walking along to school-all seemingly happy. Jonathan hated them for being happy. _You people need to see what it's like to live in depression. My mother is a depression._

At school, Jonathan sat alone. He wasn't sure if Norman had arrived yet, so he decided to sit at the end of the line by himself.

People gave him confused stares. Some were pinching their noses, but Jonathan did not understand why.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, catching the children off-guard.

"You smell bad!" a little girl squealed.

Jonathan sniffed his shirt. It did smell bad! He snuck further back behind the students, feeling completely out of place. _Mom told me my clothes were clean!_

Norman took a seat beside Jonathan. Noticing his friend's sorrow, he said, "Hey man, what's wrong?"

Jonathan scooted away. "Don't you smell me? Those people think I smell bad! My mom told me my clothes were clean-she told me so!" He hid his face in his knees.

Norman patted him. "Listen, maybe at lunch we can fix you up," he suggested.

Jonathan shook his head. "It'll take the smell away, but not the memory. They'll remember me as the 'stinky kid.'" A tear ran down his face. "What am I doing, crying? I'm in fourth grade for God's sake! I'll soon be ten!"

"You haven't been to my church in years, maybe you need to come back. I think we need to bring God back into your life."

"I know, I told Him I hate Him. That was a few years ago, after I came home from the hospital." Jonathan sighed. "I need to love Him again."

Norman nodded. "Pray to Him, He'll help you get through your day-believe me."

Jonathan turned his head away. "I-I don't know if I can."

Norman eyed him curiously. "Why not?" he asked, getting angry.

"Because I don't believe He'll listen to me. He seems to cover His ears when I pray to Him-it's useless."

Norman pinched Jonathan.

"Ow, whatcha do that for?" Jonathan yelled.

"Don't talk like that about God! He _does _listen to you! Why don't you open your ears?"

Jonathan frowned. "'Kay."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to make you upset."

Jonathan shrugged. "Never mind, it's not the worst I've been through," he mumbled.

Jonathan was now sitting in Mr. Alexander's fourth grade classroom. He watched as the teacher went about the classroom, explaining what school would be like for them.

". . .In a few days I will pick a general and an assistant general to help watch after you guys. I'll pick people that I notice behave, get their work done, and can be strict."

Jonathan sighed. _I ain't any one of them. Chances are, I'll be the one who gets in trouble with the generals._

"Any questions?" he asked, smiling.

Nobody said anything.

"Alright, who thinks they'll make a good general?" he wondered, getting peppy.

Several conceited children raised their hands. Jonathan didn't raise his hand.

When he looked around, everyone was raising their hand, the conceited one's the highest.

Mr. A. walked up to Jonathan's desk. "Why don't you think you'd make a good general?" he wondered, kneeling down.

Jonathan's face grew beet red. "I uh, just wouldn't be," he replied.

Mr. A. patted his shoulder. "It's up to me, so we'll see."

Jonathan knew Mr. A. didn't realize he saw, but he made a disgusted face-obviously because of the smell. He sunk low in his chair, wanting to leave.

At ten-fifteen, all the children lined up and were lead outside. It was time for their morning recess.

Once outside, Jonathan ran to go sit on the wood that framed the play area. He didn't really feel like playing, and he knew he'd be the "big stink" of the playground.

Norman surprised him when he said, "Hey Jonathan."

Jonathan turned around. "Hey."

"Ew, Norman's talking to 'Dumpster Boy!'" a girl screeched, running away.

Other children began screaming too. They were running all over the place like wild maniacs!

Jonathan lowed his head in shame. "Go away, I don't want to shame you," he ordered in a mumbling voice.

Norman gave Jonathan a quick stare, then galloped off. He knew Jonathan needed to be alone.

An aid walked up to Jonathan, a concerned look on her face. She knelt down to his level and tapped his shoulder. "Are you okay?" she wondered.

Jonathan rolled his eyes before lifting his head. "No," he mumbled.

"What happened?"

"Nothing. People just don't like me. I smell bad, but it ain't my fault! My mom didn't wash my clothes like she said she did!"

"Are they making fun of you?" she pried on.

Jonathan groaned. "Can you please just leave me alone? I'm not in any mood to tell on nobody!"

She stood up and stomped away, obviously hurt by his yelling.

"Great, now I made someone else hate me!" he grumped, kicking himself. He ran his fingers angrily through his hair, pulling some of them out. "God I hate my life!"

His teacher, Mr. Alexander, was on recess duty and came up to him. "Hey, what's going on?" he asked, face gentle.

Jonathan's face heated. "Nothin', I'm fine," he mumbled.

Mr. A. wasn't buying it. "Come on, tell me what's bothering you," he pleaded, patting Jonathan's knee.

Jonathan bit his lip. "You wouldn't understand. I can't explain it to nobody." An image of his mother flickered in his mind. Not even realizing it, he began digging his finger nail into his skin.

"Are you sure, you seem upset?" Mr. A. removed Jonathan's nail from his skin and nodded. "You were hurting yourself, why?"

Jonathan's chin quivered as he tried to keep the tears inside. _I can't let him see me cry, not on the first day of school! For God's sake, I'm almost ten!_

"Jonathan, answer me," he ordered, voice getting more stern.

"I stink like hell, alright? Every calls me 'Dumpster Boy,' and-and m-my mother just isn't very nice to me!"

Mr. A. seemed surprised at his sudden outburst. "What does she do to you?" he demanded, blue eyes furious.

"Lies, makes fun, that kind of thing. Don't worry about it, I'll get her back when I'm bigger than her! She'll be sorry she ever messed with her 'Jonnythan!'" He then marched off, leaving Mr. A. dumbfounded.

"Ew, there goes Dumpster Boy!" a girl cried as Jonathan stomped by.

Jonathan gave her a quick glare, then continued stomping. He stopped when he reached a tree. He picked up a jump rope that had been lying nearby and tied it to the tree. Afterwards, he tried to put his head in the loop he had made. _If my mother won't kill me, I will!_

Just as he was ready to pull the rope, Norman and Mr. A. came running towards him. "Stop Jonathan, stop!" they were calling.

Jonathan gave them a quick glance, then gulped. Slowly, he brought his fingers over the rope and grabbed it.

A running Mr. A. suddenly pulled him out of the tree and nearly threw him on the ground.

Jonathan cried in despair as he landed harshly on the ground. He grabbed his right arm and gently cradled it in his arm. Tears were gushing out of his eyes, as well as blood out of his arm.

"What do you think you were doing?" Mr. A. demanded, voice angry.

Jonathan looked up at him, eyes inoccent. "Tryin' to hang myself," he replied.

"Why?"

Jonathan looked at Norman, then back at Mr. A. "I can't explain it. Just leave me alone. Nobody else cares about me, why do you?"

Mr. A. looked at Norman. "Talk to me after recess," he mouthed, pulling Jonathan to his feet. "Come Jonathan, we need to go to the nurse, then the principal."

Jonathan groaned as his teacher dragged him back to the school. People were staring at him and laughing, some even calling out his nickname. A few children gave him sorry stares, but not very many.

Once inside the nurse's office, Jonathan was checked out.

"Well, it appears you have broken your arm. There are also some peculiar bruises all over your body. Explain it to me!" Mrs. Benfer wasn't a very polite lady, nor gentle.

Jonathan gulped. "They're just bruises. I roughhouse a lot at home," he lied.

Not thinking, she roughly grabbed his right arm and looked straight into his eyes. "Don't you lie to me! I need an answer, this minute!"

Jonathan winced. "It ain't any of your business! Maybe I beat myself up! Hell, anything could've happened!"

Mr. Alexander scowled at the cursing. "This isn't a place for swearing," he reminded. _Nor is anywhere else._

"So, it's what's on my mind? I live a shitty life everyday, and I'm tired of it! What would make it better is if you people would just butt out!"

After being bandaged up, Jonathan was dragged to the principal's office for punishment.

"So, Mr. Peachy, I hear you tried to hang yourself on the playground today and that you were swearing like crazy," Mr. Licthel said, eye twitching.

Jonathan nodded. "That's right," he said bravely.

"You _twitch _aren't _twitch _supposed to _twitch _swear in school," he told him. "And hanging yourself, that's above all _twitch _disobedient."

Jonathan nodded slightly. "I know."

"Then why did you do it?"

He gulped. Rubbing his jeans, he said, "'Cuz I'm tired of my life."

Mr. Licthel leaned forward. "Why?"

Jonathan looked down at the floor. "Life, it's just too hard for me," he lied.

"Why?" he demanded, getting annoyed.

"It just is. I'd rather not talk about it. Let's just say I went to court about it and my mom won." He thought back to that day and grinded his teeth.

"What'd you _twitch _accuse her of?" he wondered, mouth twitching as he spoke. Mr. Licthel was one, big, twitching mess.

"Child abuse."

"You lost?"

Jonathan bobbed his head up and down. "Yeah, they believed her. Oh well, maybe I _was _lying. One of us were. Some people would believe me, others my mother. The judge believed her."

"Okay, well let's get back to the hanging and swearing. We will call your mother to pick you up, you're suspended. You won't come back to school until next month. In the meantime, you will be doing schoolwork assigned by your teacher at home. When you do come back to school, you will be seeing a counselor."

Jonathan's shoulders slumped. _I'll be nearly killed when I get home, _he thought as they dialed Kim's number.

"You won't _whack _ever _whack _get suspended _whack _again_ whack!_" Kim yelled as she beat Jonathan's bottom with a thorny branch she had found.

Jonathan held his breath as the thorns stuck into his skin, then were ripped angrily out. He couldn't help but think about God. _I wish God would help me._

Kim enjoyed herself as she slammed the thorns into his flesh, making him cry out in pain. Many little thorns caused great pain, especially when you were whipping somebody with them.

After his thrashing, Jonathan was sent outside. Kim followed closely behind, the thorny thrasher in her hand. She slowly removed his shirt, then went into the garage.

Jonathan's chest heaved up and down as he tried to breathe. He knew a new, sick game was coming. A feeling inside him told him that the beating wasn't near over!

Kim returned with a tough rope in her hand. She tied his left hand to a branch that he almost couldn't reach, then tied the other one straight to his side, making sure he couldn't get out.

Jonathan's feet were just barely touching the ground, which worried him deeply. He knew there would be no escaping this trap.

Kim retrieved the thorn branch and lashed him in the back with it. She lashed him several times, laughing every time his back was cut open.

Jonathan was afraid. There was no getting out, and she was thrashing him so badly!

_I wish I woulda just hung myself! I can't live this way-not without someone to help me. Not without-without God._

**Chapter 9**

**Sneaking The **_**Only **_**Good Book**

Since he was no longer allowed at school until October, Jonathan was taught by his mother. She was happy to teach him, for she did hardly anything during the day anyways.

"Today, we will be going on a fieldtrip to Dollar General. We will learn how to buy items, and about the prices."

Jonathan grabbed his sweatshirt and followed Kim out to the "bus." He sat in the way back seat, trying to stay as far away from Kim as possible.

Once there, Kim showed him a bunch of food and their prices. "This price says $2.99, so what is the actual price?" she asked, nearly stuffing the price in his face.

Jonathan took a step back, then cleared his throat to answer. "About three dollars, probably a little more 'cuz of tax."

"Because," Kim corrected. She then laid the product back on the shelf and picked up another item. "Tell Mommy how she'd buy this item."

Jonathan sighed. "Bring it up to the cash register, wait for them to tell you how much it costs, then get out your credit card, checkbook, or money. Next, you pay your amount, thank them, then leave."

"What do you always do when you pay with money?" she asked, eyes big.

Jonathan looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. "Oh! You pay a little over the amount to make sure you're paying the whole price."

Kim nodded. "Yes, very good. Now, shall we learn to write out a check?"

Jonathan looked at his broken arm. "Uh, my writing hand is diabled. I can't write."

"Then use the other one!" Kim bellowed, making people stare at her.

One of the workers stormed up to her and said, "Ma'am, we try to run a nice business, and if you can't make it nice, then get out!"

Kim crossed her arms, but lowered her voice. "Okay, go look around while Mommy checks out."

Jonathan hurried off, glad to avoid holding her hand. While running through the aisles, Jonathan spotted something that caught his eyes.

He backed up and picked up the red book. "Wow, so this is the book Norman reads," he whispered, flipping through the pages. "Hmm, I wonder if maybe I could buy it." He turned the book around and found the price: $9.99.

"Jonnythan, put that dumb book down!" Kim scolded, nearly throwing her groceries down.

Jonathan jumped up and quickly slammed the book back on the shelf. _Jeez, you scared the crap out of me._

They went up to the cashier, paid, then headed out the door. Just as Kim got in the car, Jonathan thought of an idea.

"Hey Mom, I think I left something inside the store. Can I go get it quick?"

Kim nodded.

Jonathan hurry ran inside and found the book. Sneakily, he went up and paid for it. He had brought some of the money he had gotten for Easter last year to buy something.

When he made it to the car, he made sure Kim did not see what he had bought. If she saw it, she'd kill him.

After class had ended, Jonathan went back to his room and opened up to the first page. "In the beginning, God created the Heaven and the Earth," he read. "And the Earth was without form and void, and the darkness was upon the face of the deep and the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters."

Jonathan read up to the ending of the story of Adam and Eve, then placed the book under his bed. He bowed his head and silently prayed. Jonathan knew he had done big sins, and wanted to forgiven for them. He knew that it'd be hard getting used to reading the Bible and praying to God, but he didn't care. Norman seemed content with God, why shouldn't he be?

**Chapter 10**

**Birthday Boy**

Jonathan let the warm shower water run repeatedly down his body as he prepared for the day. His favorite part of the day was showering, for he didn't have to endure any pain-besides when he got shampoo in his eyes.

"Happy birthday, Jonnythan!" Kim shouted suddenly.

Jonathan jumped up in surprise, knocked down the bar of soap, and slipped on it. He landed on his back with a thud, also hurting his right arm. "Ugh!" he groaned.

Kim threw open the shower curtain and made these big, creepy eyes. "Don't fall down like that, it's your birthday," she said ever so peacefully.

Jonathan gave her a strange look, wondering why his mother acted so mentally-challenged. "I know, but you're the one who scared the crap out of me."

Kim frowned. "Mommy did not, you scared yourself!" she argued, stomping her booted foot.

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "You know what, who cares? I fell, and that's that. Can I finish my shower now, please?"

Kim nodded, then left the room.

Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief once she was gone. Slowly, he got up and finished his shower.

After bathing, Jonathan went into the living room to watch cartoons. He flipped through the channels until he found Spongebob.

"'Happy birthday, Jonnythan,'" Casey laughed as he entered the room.

"Shut up. I ain't in the mood for more 'Mommys.'" He smiled, then concentrated on his TV show.

"Do you think Mommy got you anything special?"

Jonathan shrugged. "I personally don't care. If she didn't get me anything, I won't be hurt. I'd rather she didn't get me anything, my toys are ruined by her soon enough anyways."

Casey took a seat beside him. "Yeah, I know what ya mean. She's a royal bitch, huh?"

Jonathan nodded. "She ain't anything good, I know that," he laughed. "I hope she never comes back to me. You know how hard she hits me-she'll probably really make an effort on my birthday." Casey nodded. "I wish we could get out of this hellhole. She hits you the most, mainly 'cuz you're the smallest and most weak. I wish I could help ya man, but there ain't any way I can stop Mom from hitting you."

Jonathan bit his lip to keep from crying. "I know you would help me if you could. I tried to help us, but they don't believe me. Mom will beat me until the one day I die, which should be soon."

Kim stepped into the room. "What are you two talking about behind Mommy's back?" she demanded, stomping up to Jonathan with an open hand.

"Your birthday present!" Casey was quick to say.

"Oh okay. Just as long as you aren't talking bad about Mommy." Kim smiled kindly at Jonathan.

Jonathan thought she was just going to be nice for now. She seemed so happy, when she suddenly did something very painful physically and emotionally.

Kim punched him right in the nose. After hitting him, she flopped herself onto his lap, squashing him.

Jonathan could barely breathe, and it felt as though Kim weighed a million pounds. "Mommy, please get off of me! I can't breathe, please! Dad, get Mom off of me!"

His father just stood there like a dumb ape, not even trying to remove Kim. To Jonathan, it seemed as though his father had no pity or remorse.

"Birthday boys don't need to breathe, especially when they ruin their Mommies' lives!" Kim hollered, putting her big butt on his small face.

Jonathan couldn't stand suffication. Sure, whippings were miserable, but suffication really hurt him! _Dear Lord, please take her off me. Please, God, my mother can't kill me-not today. Please watch over me and take care of me. I need you. Please, help me! In Jesus's name I pray, amen._

The suffication soon subsided and Kim went off to the kitchen.

Jonathan gave his father an evil glare. "What the heck is wrong with you?"

Brent pressed a finger to his lips. "Shh, we don't want to upset her more," he whispered.

"I don't give a crap! Why didn't you help me? Are you aware that it'll soon come down to killing? Huh, didn't you ever think that I could leave the earth? I can and will real soon I reckon." He rubbed his swollen nose. "She punched me."

"Kim, why'd you punch the kid on his birthday?" Brent wondered.

"Mommy didn't want him happy," she called back.

Brent shrugged. "I'm sorry Jonathan, but I can't help you. Buck up and be a man. Show your mother who's boss."

Jonathan stuck his tongue out at him. "You know damn well who the boss is! It's that controlling bitch in the kitchen!" He pointed to Kim, glaring at her.

Kim stomped out, jeans in a knot. She picked up the first thing she spotted-a coffee cup-and spashed it over her son's head. "Who's the bitch now?"

Jonathan wanted to say, "You," but he kept quiet. His head hurt, and he knew pieces of glass were sticking in his scalp. The least he could do for himself was keep quiet.

"Kim, settle down, we don't want to kill the boy," Brent reminded.

Kim turned fiercly to face him. "Yes we do!" she argued, throwing her arms about in the air.

Brent gave Jonathan a sorry glance. "Now Kim, aren't you being a bit rash?"

Kim shook her head. "That boy is the one who caused Mommy all the grief! He nearly killed Mommy when Mommy was giving birth to him!"

"Is that why you always hurt me?" Jonathan asked.

"There are many reasons why I strike you," she replied, turning back to the kitchen.

"So my birthday is a reminder of your near-death experience?"

Kim nodded before she disappeared.

Jonathan lowered his head, feeling guilty for being alive. Kim made him think he was a disobedient boy and should be punished all the time. Although he kind of knew it was wrong, he still felt deserving of such cruel punishment.

A strong arm wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing them caringly. "I'm so sorry, I'll get us out of here sometime-all of us. I promise."

Jonathan looked up at him. "You will?" he wondered.

He nodded with a reassuring smile.

Jonathan hoped and prayed his father was telling the truth. He couldn't stand to be let down on something that he wanted so badly. Would he actually do it?

The promise Brent had given Jonathan was a good enough birthday present for him. It gave him hope of leaving the torture of his mother. He felt a sense of excitement go through his body because of this. _I will, I will leave Mom, for good._

**Chapter 11**

**Running Away With Christ**

Over Christmas vacation, Kimberly's beatings were unbearable. She was especially up for beatings during the holidays.

On Christmas Eve, Jonathan lay in his bed, fearing tomorrow. He had already said his prayers, but they didn't comfort him. He knew for a fact Kim would beat him real bad on Christmas, he just had that gut feeling.

"Jonathan, you must come with me," a voice seemed to say.

Jonathan looked up on his ceiling, where the voice was coming from, but found no one. "Who are you?" he asked quietly.

"Jesus, God's Son. Jonathan, I want to take you away from here. I know you can sense that your mother will hurt you badly tomorrow, and she will. You must follow me, and I'll spare you the pain."

Jonathan sat up. "Follow you? I can't see you!"

"Follow your heart, I will be guiding you," He replied.

Jonathan hopped out of bed and bundled up. After dressing in layers, he headed out into the frigid-cold air. Jesus was leading him to a place he had never been to before.

He stomped through the thick snow, shivering. The cold was nipping at his small body, making him feel like he should turn around. "Jesus, are we going to be there any time soon?" he asked aloud.

No one answered.

He shrugged, then continued on his journey. "This makes absolutely no sense," he laughed, shaking his head.

Jesus told him to stop when they reached a medium-sized home with beautiful Christmas decorations. "Am I to go in?"

"Yes, they will accept you into their home, no questions."

Jonathan slowly walked up the steps and knocked on the door.

"Yes, who are you?" a kindly old woman asked.

"Jonathan, I need a place to stay for Christmas," he replied.

The woman motioned for him to come in-no questions as Jesus had told him.

"Thank you for letting me stay."

The woman smiled. "No problem, I'm lonely on Christmas anyways."

Jonathan gave her an odd look. _Why's she lonely, don't she have any grandchildren? _"You are?" he asked.

She nodded, sitting down in her rocker. "Yes, my husband died last year. My children could care less about me. Oh, why am I telling you this? You're just a child, you wouldn't understand lonliness."

Jonathan rubbed his forehead. "There's so little you know," he mumbled.

The old woman did not say anything about it, but she was thinking. _I wonder why a child is feeling alone?_

Jonathan suddenly felt very sleepy. "If you don't mind, I think I'll go to sleep," he yawned.

The woman nodded. "Would you like to take my bed?" she wondered, getting up.

Jonathan shook his head. "Thanks, but the couch'll be alright for me." He smiled at her. "You're really nice."

"Aw, thank you sweetie. At least _you _think so." She then hobbled to her bedroom and shut the door.

As Jonathan was about to fall asleep, he heard soft cries. He also heard some whispering about being sorry and wanting to make amends with Maryann and Michael.

He didn't know who those people were, but he figured they were her children. Why would she want to make amends with them? She was the sweetest woman he'd ever seen!

_Could she have. . ._

On Christmas morning, the woman made them pancakes and scrambled eggs.

Jonathan waited at her small kitchen table, chattering as she worked.

When he was looking about the kitchen, something caught his eye. He stared intently at it, wondering what it was. A flicker of rememberance scared him. "Oh no," he whispered.

The woman heard his whisper and looked down at what he was staring at. She grew pale and gasped. _I forgot to clean that!_

His body began shaking, but he did not say anything to her. For some reason, he didn't feel that she would injure him, but he felt sorrow for her. _"My children could care less about me." "I'm sorry. I really would like to make amends with my Maryann and Michael."_

"I'm sorry if that scares you. It's from a long time ago." She sighed. "It's not a wonder my children stay away from me."

Jonathan gulped. "Did you go to prison?" he asked suddenly.

"Yes. I went for fifteen years. I learned a lot in that time." She gave him his pancakes and sat down.

Jonathan gently picked up his fork and took a small bite. "Is it just as bad being abused-abusing I mean?" he wondered.

She nodded. "I shouldn't have beat them," she cried. "It wasn't their fault I had been abused by my father!"

Jonathan let a tear escape from his eye. "It isn't my fault I almost killed my mother," he sighed.

She looked at him with sorry eyes. "You're being abused?" she questioned.

Jonathan nodded slightly. "When my mother was having me, I almost killed her. Now, I have to pay the price. I tried to go against her in court, but they believed her."

"The pain's hard to endure, isn't it?"

"Yep. Each time, it seems she beats me and my black hole worse. She told me I don't have a heart."

The woman pulled him into a close hug. "Sweetie, this needs reported," she whispered.

Jonathan pulled back. "No, they won't believe me! I'll only get in more trouble. Last time it was reported, I ended up getting lit on fire!" He was shaking uncontrollably now.

"It'll be our secret then. Are you sure you'll be okay?"

He nodded. "The worst she could do is kill me. That way, I'd be out of her grasp. She'd no longer be able to torment me. I _want _her to kill me."

She hugged him once more and kissed his cheek. "My children would always tell me just to kill them. For some reason, I just couldn't."

"My mother just wants me around to beat."

"I think that deep down, she does love you," she told him softly.

Jonathan gave her a curious look. "Why does she act like she hates me then? Her parents never abused her! She has absolutely no reason to hate me!"

"You're right. She doesn't, but she's very angry. I'd try to get her some help."

Jonathan shook his head. "No, I need the help! My mother just needs to be put in prison! I need to be taken away and put in a loving household!"

"Shh, calm down dear. It's alright. Pray to God for _her. _That's the best way to help her."

Jonathan thought about it for a while, then agreed it was the right choice. All this time, he'd been praying for himself, not for her. Kim certainly needed more prayers than he did!

**Chapter 12**

**Mother's Day**

"Today, class, we're going to make paintings for our mothers," Mrs. Richie, the art teacher, said in her lazy voice.

Jonathan raised his hand. "What if you don't think they deserve a present?" he asked.

Several students laughed, but Norman remained silent.

Mrs. Richie walked up to him, a stupid look on her face. "Mother's Day and no present from her son, not a good thing."

Jonathan rolled his eyes at her line, "not a good thing." She always said that. "But my mother honestly don't deserve it!"

"Teacher talking and student not listening, not a good thing."

"Then what is a good thing?" he demanded.

Mrs. Richie glared at him. "Just get your work done. Paint something pretty for your mother."

Jonathan frowned. Slowly, he painted a big heart. The heart looked pretty good, until he put a big, black X through it. _I hate you, _he thought as he did it.

Norman looked over at his painting and raised his eyebrows. "Mean painting, not a good thing," he mocked.

Jonathan laughed. "Sit back down in your seat, or Mrs. Richie'll accuse you of Jackrabbitidis," he laughed.

Norman sat back, then looked over at her. "She sure is strange."

Jonathan nodded. "Yeah, all adults seem to be," he agreed.

"Jonathan, will you come up to my desk please?" she asked, face mean.

Jonathan slowly lumbered up, fearing a yelling from her. "What's up?"

"Aren't you supposed to remain quiet when you're working?" she reminded.

He nodded. "I was just discussing what a nice teacher you are," he lied.

She stood up, very angry now. "I don't normally do this, but you are driving me nuts! Jonathan, in the corner by the trashcan!" she ordered, voice now very loud.

"Won't I have Jackrabbitidis then?" he asked.

"No, now go!"

Jonathan walked up there, not one bit upset. The good thing about being punished was that he didn't have to make that stupid present for his mother.

"Jeez, I swear some children have no-good parents," she sighed.

Jonathan turned around. Blue eyes piercing, he stomped up to her. "That's why I don't want to make my mom a present! She's no-good! Heck, I'd rather make you a Mother's Day present for you, and you ain't my mother!"

Mrs. Richie's face was bright red. The color of her face matched her mismatched, crazy outfit. She always wore many colors.

"Well then, take a seat. We don't want any Jackrabbitidis spreading around. You may draw a picture for me then."

Jonathan took a seat. _I didn't literally mean I wanted to draw you something._ He crumbled up his old painting and started on a new one for Mrs. Richie. _I think I'll paint her a rabbit._

When Norman looked over to see Jonathan's project, he started laughing. He knew it was supposed to be a jackrabbit. "Good thinking, Jonathan."

Jonathan smiled as he continued painting. For the first time in a long time, he felt as though life wasn't so bad.

After school, Jonathan trudged home, not excited to see Kim. She'd probably make him bow down to her, considering today was Mother's Day.

He opened the front door and stepped in. Everything seemed normal so far, so he relaxed and started his homework.

Kim was suddenly in front of him, eyes wide. "Go get dressed nicely, Daddy's taking us out for Mother's Day dinner," she told him.

Jonathan quickly jumped up and ran to his room. He threw open his dresser drawers and found his nice clothes. He couldn't look like the abused child he was!

"So Jonnythan, where's Mommy's present?" she asked once he sat down on the couch.

Jonathan felt his face heat up. Why hadn't he kept the present he had made for her? He gave her this helpless look and said, "I haven't gotten it yet."

"Why not?" she demanded, showing him her boot.

"Mother's Day ain't over, and I wanted to get you something special," he replied, hoping she'd buy it.

Kim lifted her boot even higher. "Don't lie to Mommy!"

Jonathan gulped. "Are you gonna hit me?"

Kim threw him onto the floor so she had a better aim. "You may not have a present for me, but Mommy has one for you!" she yelled, lifting up her boot. "Mommy's boot!"

Jonathan cried as Kim kicked him in the stomach, face, and legs. She kept on kicking him, despite the black and blue marks she was giving him.

Finally, she stopped kicking and went to go change into her special jeans and T-shirt for the dinner. Maybe, she'd even polish her boots.

Jonathan lay crumpled-up on the floor, crying. He was hurting all over, and he could barely move. Right now, he could really use a kind mother to come and make his problems go away. He'd never ever felt loved by anyone.

Brent stepped in the door and grew scared. "Kim, did you kick the boy?" he called, throwing down his suitcase.

Kim came out in her underwear, holding up a T-shirt. "Yes, he didn't get Mommy a present."

Brent scowled. "How are we going to take him out to eat with visible bruises?" he demanded.

"We can use makeup and cover them up," she replied.

Brent shook his head. "He can rub it off. You shouldn't have done that. What if we get reported for child abuse?"

"We won't. We can leave him home alone."

"My son is going to eat a good meal. Especially since you told me last night you're planning to begin starving him. Can't he have one last good meal?"

Jonathan moaned. "Dad, can you fix me up?" he whined. "My body hurts."

Brent looked over at Kim, then at his son. _Jonathan, I wish I could get you out of here, but I too am afraid of your mother. I really would like to help you, but I don't believe I can. Some man I am. _He had this sudden feeling that he needed to help his child.

Jonathan watched as his father knelt down beside him and lifted up his aching body. Gently, he brought Jonathan to the bathroom and sat him on the toilet.

Jonathan was really crying, the pain was unbearable. "Jesus, take me. Please, just take me away," he whispered.

"Shh, it's alright. Dad's gonna fix you up and you'll be all better. Don't you worry anymore." He smiled at Jonathan, but did not get a returned smile.

"Can you make the black and blue marks go away?" he asked.

His father shook his head. "No, they'll stay for a while. Don't worry, they will leave." He then gently rubbed the bruises with a cold rag.

Jonathan winced at the pain. "Dad, that hurts. Please, stop!" he begged.

His father sighed. "I can't, they won't feel better if I don't."

Jonathan cried even harder. "I can't stand Mom anymore! Can't you please do something? Can you tell them that she does abuse me?"

Brent felt choked up. "I'm afraid not."

Jonathan grew angry. "Thanks, I sure can tell you care," he said cockily.

"Jonathan. . ."

"Leave me alone. Go out and eat. I no longer love or want you near me. You abuse me just like her. She beats me, you neglect me. Get!"

Brent, like a bad father, did leave his son. He took the rest of the family out to eat, leaving Jonathan crying in pain on the toilet. The poor boy had no one he loved. Brent had broken the last straw. Jonathan was going to hate all adults, whoever they were.

**Chapter 13**

**Suspicions In Gym Class**

Jonathan pulled off his pants and pulled on a pair of sports shorts. He didn't have to change for gym class, but he always got hot in his long jeans.

He then found his place in the line and stood there with the other students.

Mr. Sauers came out to them. "Today, we will be playing floor hockey," he announced in his loud voice. "Sydney and Cameron are the team captians. Pick your team mates."

Sydney picked her best friends, and Cameron picked the best players.

Of course, Jonathan was the last one to be picked. Nobody seemed to like him. _I wish I had more friends._

"Peachy, looks like you're the last one. We have even teams now, so someone will have to take you on their's. Which team wants him?" He looked at both teams-no one raised their hands.

Jonathan bit his lip. "Go figure," he whispered.

Norman turned to the team he was on. "Come on guys, let's get Jonathan on our team. He's a good player and very nice. Besides, Jonathan is kinda lonely. Please?"

His team members nodded and smiled.

"We'd like Jonathan!" Norman shouted, a giant smile on his face.

Jonathan brightened and ran up to them. "Thanks Norm," he whispered.

Jonathan was one of the first people to play. He was also going to play in the front-where all the action was.

He ran all about the gym, trying to get the puck. He had to get a goal for his team.

One of the kids from the other team was trying to make sure he didn't get the puck. When he finally did and was ready to shoot it, the child tried to take it and accidentally smacked him in the leg with their stick.

Jonathan grabbed his leg and started crying. His face was red with tears and embarrassment.

"Peachy, it's just a hockey stick!" Mr. Sauers yelled, laughing a little.

Jonathan looked up at him. He slowly shook his head. "No, he hit one of my bruises!" he whined.

Mr. Sauers now knew that Jonathan was definitely in pain. He ran up to him and looked at his leg. He noticed many more marks on his legs. _They can't be from one stick. He must be hurt at home._

"What's wrong, Mr. Sauers?" Jonathan asked, forgetting he had all those marks.

"Jonathan, let's go down to the nurse," he ordered, getting up.

Jonathan obediently followed, a little afraid. He really didn't like the school nurse.

They burst inside and nearly killed Mrs. Benfer.

"What's this?" she demanded, looking at Mr. Sauer's sad face.

"Look at these marks on his legs," he said, lifting up Jonathan's leg. "They look like beating marks."

She gently examined his bruised leg. She bit her lip, then looked up at the boy. "Do they hurt?" she asked.

Jonathan glanced down at them, then back at her. He nodded slowly. "A little, yeah."

"Who did this to you?"

Jonathan gulped. "I just roughhouse a lot," he lied.

Mrs. Benfer shook her head at Mr. Sauers. "Are you sure you aren't being spanked at home?"

Jonathan rubbed his hands on his shorts. "Sometimes."

"Sometimes or all the time?"

"Sometimes," he repeated.

She gently rubbed his leg. "Were you 'spanked' recentally?" she wondered, noticing the bruises looked recent.

He nodded. "Yeah, I started mouthing to my mom." He sighed. "She's real strict."

"I see. What did she use to beat you?" From the marks, it was quite hard to tell what the weapon was. It appeared to be a belt, but she couldn't be too sure.

"Broom and belt buckle," he responded. "No need to worry, she don't spank me often." _Just every day of my life!_

_Yeah, sure, _Mrs. Benfer thought to herself. "Would you care if I bandaged these up for you? Some pressure on them may make them feel better."

Jonathan shrugged. "Go ahead," he said, seemingly careless.

He winced a couple times as she fixed up his legs, but tried to act as though he didn't care. _Hopefully they won't tell Mom. I can't bear another beating. Please God, don't let Mom find out I was at the nurse's. She's likely to beat me unconscious._

"There, all done!"

"You don't have to continue playing, you can get ready to go home while we finish the game," Mr. Sauers told him on the way back to the gym.

Jonathan nodded. "Okay."

Everyone was staring at Jonathan, probably wondering what happened. Norman was the only one with a sad face. He knew that Jonathan's mother abused him. Should he tell about his findings?

Jonathan sat down in front of the door. Slowly, he took out a piece of paper from his backpack and a pencil. He scribbled a small message on it, then crumpled it up.

My mom abuses me. She hates me and wants to kill me. She starves me. Please, someone help me!

A small tear streamed down his face, dropping onto the paper. He daren't let anyone see, so he stuffed the paper in his backpack and wiped away his tears.

_Jonathan, I wish I could do something, but I don't know what to do, _Norman thought as he stood on the sidelines.

It seemed strange for Jonathan to sit there so calmly. Usually, Jonathan was wild and disobedient. Today, however, he was calm and quiet.

When the bell rang, all the students ran out the doors and to their places. Jonathan walked slowly, fearing going home. His fists were clenched together as he walked down the sidewalk.

At home, Kim did not seem as though someone had called her about his bruises. He was so relieved, yet not for long. That night, Kim made him throw-up his school lunch, and sent him to bed without supper. Jonathan was drifting farther apart from the family, and he knew it.

**Chapter 14**

**Alyssa Lies**

The next day, Jonathan anticipated going to school. Today, he was going to be in a pizza party during lunch. His class had won it by winning some school contest the other week.

Jonathan sat down with his pizza, hoping someone would sit next to him. Since he looked so gross, people usually stayed away from him. They didn't want to be near Dumpster Boy.

Norman plopped down beside him, a friendly smile on his face. "Is the pizza good?" he asked.

Jonathan nodded, smiling back. "You should try it. It tastes better than anything I've eaten in a long while."

Mr. A. smiled. "Doesn't your mother make very good suppers?" he teased, not realizing Jonathan was rarely fed.

Jonathan acted as though his mother _did _feed him. "Not very good, I guess," he laughed, forcing the laughter out. _I want to die. God, won't you just make her kill me, if it Your will of course? Lord, I want to be with You, if You'd like. I'd treat You like the king You are. All I have is You to depend on._

"I hope nobody minds, but I'd like to listen to some of my music," Mr. A. said, rising from his chair. He went up to his boom box and pressed play.

Jonathan didn't recognize the song, so he listened intently.

Mr. A. was playing "Alyssa Lies."

Jonathan couldn't quite understand the song in the beginning, but eventually understood it. At the part that said, "As she tries to cover every bruise," Jonathan got choked up. He'd been trying to do that, but had forgotten about it in gym class yesterday.

"Jonathan, are you feeling alright?" Mr. Alexander wondered, noticing Jonathan nodding with watery eyes.

Jonathan jumped up and ran out the room. He ran all the way to the boys' bathroom, then slid onto the floor. He bawled and bawled, knowing the song was a lot like his life. The only thing is, the person was a girl.

Mr. A. was soon in the bathroom, kneeling down beside Jonathan. "Shh, it's okay," he said soothingly.

Jonathan looked up at him with red eyes. "It's such a sad song though," he cried.

Mr. A. pulled him against his chest. "I know, I know," he whispered.

"I know someone who was abused," Jonathan said. "I think they're soon gonna be out of their misery though."

Mr. A. pulled back. "Who?" he asked.

"Just a friend," he lied, trying not to make it obvious who it was.

"You sure?"

Jonathan nodded. "They'll soon be with Jesus," he sighed, hoping what he was saying was true.

Mr. A. eyed him curiously. "Who are they?"

"I'd rather not say. They're real hurt right now. Trust me, everything will be okay. I just pity them so bad."

Mr. Alexander didn't know whether to believe him or not. The child wasn't a straight-A, well-behaved person. He'd gotten wrote up by the generals more than a dozen times!

After a while, they returned to the classroom.

Everyone stared at Jonathan as they had during gym. Many of them seemed to understand his tears, but some seemed clueless. The one who seemed singled-out was Norman. He knew the truth, and it hurt him to watch this. _Please God, tell me what to do, _he prayed.

Jonathan entered the house to his mother talking on the phone. She seemed scared and angry.

". . .I'm not sure who he was speaking of, but Mommy doesn't know of any abused friends that Jonnythan has. In fact, Mommy doesn't believe he has any friends besides Norman."

Jonathan froze at the doorway, body paralyzed. _"She lies with Jesus," _he thought as he remembered the song he had listened to.

"You have suspicions about Mommy?" Kim repeated, sounding surprised. "Jonnythan is treated very well here! Yes, yes, Mommy did spank him. Nothing bad."

Jonathan grew even more afraid as the conversation quickly began to end. When she hung up the phone, he ran to his bedroom. He slid across the floor on his knees to his bed and picked up his Bible. Hugging it close to his heart, he said the biggest prayer he'd ever said before in his life.

Kim came stomping into the room, belt ready. "Why in the world would you do that?" she demanded, yanking him up.

Jonathan couldn't even speak. He was way too fearful of what she was about to do to him.

When he didn't reply, Kim took the buckle of the belt and thrashed it against his cheek. Next, she stripped him of his clothes and beat his entire body until it was bloody. Afterwards, she stuck him in the bathroom with a bucket full of different types of cleaners. He was to sit right next to the bucket and breathe in all the fumes.

Jonathan stood up-legs wobbling-and looked in the mirror. He scared himself when he saw a monster looking back at him. There was a great purple mark right across his right cheek. It went from the right nostril of his nose down to the edge of his face.

_I wonder if that old woman had beaten her children as bad as Mom beats me. . ._ A flashback rushed to his mind-the blood splattered on her wall and floor in the kitchen. He looked down at the floor to see the very same thing.

At that moment, his body made a loud thud as he landed on the floor, fainting from the toxic fumes and from his monstrous face.

Brent hurried into the bathroom to find his messed-up son lying on the tiled floor, pain on his face. He opened the bathroom window and dumped all the cleaners out of the window. Afterwards, he lifted his son into his strong arms and carried him to the master bedroom. Kim was busy outside with the older boys, so he didn't have to worry.

Gently, he laid the child down on his comfy bed and ran to the bathroom. He returned with a cool rag to pat the bruises. _Jonathan, please pull-through. I know I've been a bad father, I just don't know what to do. It's all so confusing for me. Please son, I love you._

Jonathan's eyes fluttered open, and he let out a moan. "Dad, what am I doing in Mom's room?" he asked worriedly.

"Don't worry, she's out with the boys. I found you in the bathroom, I had to help you. Rest now, let Daddy help you."

Jonathan watched with half-opened eyes as his father carefully covered his wounds. He treated Jonathan as though he were something very fragile, unlike his mother. He'd never felt as precious as that very moment.

Maybe, just maybe, he could love Brent again.

**Chapter 15**

**Generals**

Jonathan hadn't gotten his homework done that night, for the beating had exhausted him. Because of this, he was wrote-up by the general and had to write, "I will do my homework" 100 times.

During recess, Jonathan decided to get a head-start on it. He sat against the brick building, sun shining down on him. He really felt like playing football with the atheletes, but that was not an option. They'd probably only like to play with the popular kids.

A dark shadow hovered over him, and Jonathan felt this frightened feeling. He was relieved to see only one of his classmates, instead of his mother. "So, I guess Dumpster Boy's missing recess because of his punishment!" Courtnee laughed.

Jonathan felt his face heat, but he continued working.

The assistant general came up as well. "Well General Lyons, what do you think of this?" Yeva teased.

"Seems like a bad boy finally paying the price, to me," she replied. She knelt down on her chubby knees. Rudely, she spit in his face, then marched off.

"So stupid," he heard Yeva mumble as she walked away.

Jonathan broke his pencil in half. Angrily, he kicked the blacktop with his heel.

Norman ran to Mr. A. and told him what had just happened. Mr. A. did not look happy!

Now back in the classroom, Mr. A. stood before the class with an angry look in his eyes. "I have an announcement to make," he announced, startling several students. "We will no longer have Yeva and Courtnee as generals."

Everyone gasped, but Jonathan just smiled slightly.

"You see, a little birdy told me that they were making fun of Jonathan for being in trouble. Calling him Dumpster Boy and teasing him." He looked in the generals' direction. "I demand an apology to Jonathan from the both of you."

_Serves those snobs right, _Jonathan thought.

"Sorry Jonathan," they said in unison.

"On a happier note, I'd like to say that I will be picking new generals tomorrow. Tomorrow, you will hopefully have more kind-hearted and considerate generals." He smiled at Jonathan. "You'd like that, wouldn't you, Jonathan?"

Jonathan nodded, smiling sheepishly.

When the two friends walked in the classroom the next morning, everyone was shaking their heads and eyeing the two up.

Jonathan shrugged it off, thinking that they were doing that because of what happened yesterday. Casually, he made his way to his desk. His eyes were bigger than watermelons when he looked down.

"Dude!" he exclaimed, looking back at his teacher.

Mr. Alexander nodded, laughing at Jonathan's reaction.

Norman tapped on his shoulder. "It'll be good serving you, General Peachy," he smiled.

Jonathan gave him a strange look and cocked his head to one side. "What are you talkin' about?" he asked, thinking Norman was being fruity.

"Say hello to your assistant general," he laughed, holding out his hand.

Jonathan whirled around to face Mr. A. He pointed to Norman, then to himself. "Us?" he mouthed.

Mr. A. understood his lips and nodded. "I think the two of you will make great generals," he told them.

"You do?" Jonathaned questioned, hope rising within him.

"Yes, both of you are very nice boys."

Jonathan raised his eyebrows. "What about my behave. . ."

"It's all in the past, right?" the teacher interrupted.

"Yeah, all in the past," he agreed, smiling from ear to ear. _I'm a general!_

**Chapter 16**

**Jesus, Are You There?**

General Peachy's job soon ended, meaning summer vacation had come. He had felt so powerful to have been in charge of the students several times at school, but now Kim was in full charge of him. This deeply scared Jonathan.

"Casey and Andrew, when we get to the campground, make sure you stay with Mommy. You usually run off and do whatever you want, but that will change. Mommy wants you to spend quality time with Mommy." Kim looked back at them through the review mirror.

Jonathan let out a small giggle. It was kind of funny that his spoiled older brothers had to spend time with "Mommy."

"Hey Jonathan, maybe we can hit the swimming pool," Brent suggested.

Jonathan shrugged. "Depends I guess," he mumbled.

Brent quickly glanced at his wife. _Yeah, I guess you're right. . ._

"If Jonnythan is a bad boy, he most certainly will be punished by Mommy! Definitely no swimming!"

Jonathan slid down in his seat. Kim's talking of punishment always made him uncomfortable. Her "punishment" was brutal abuse and cruelty.

"You won't be bad, will you Jonathan?" he asked in an amused voice.

Jonathan glanced up at his mother. "That ain't for me to judge," he replied. "She's the one who judges whether I'm disobedient or not."

Kim nodded happily. "Good, the boy knows who's the boss in the house," she smiled.

Jonathan wanted to punch her ugly face. He didn't want her to be the boss, his father needed to be-by the Bible and by how his father acts.

"Kim, we don't need to be so strict on him during camping, do we?"

Kim hit her fists on the dashboard. "Of course we do, or he'll think that we are going to spoil him!" she yelled. "The child needs a firm hand to teach him."

Jonathan sighed deeply. He would have liked to put her in her place, but then she would have got him back ten times worse, so he remained quiet. His own silence was eating him alive. He needed a voice.

"We're here!" Brent announced as they pulled up to the Nitney Mountain Campground.

Once at their cabin, Jonathan carried and put away everyone's luggage. Afterwards, he sat quietly on the couch as the family discussed what they were going to do.

"Hey, can I take Jonathan with me swimming?" Brent wondered, smiling at his son.

"You may, but be sure he doesn't make a mess when he comes back to the cabin. If he does, he'll be spanked by Mommy's boot." She stared down at her youngest son. "If Mommy were you, she'd be very careful."

Jonathan nodded. "I will."

After dressing in his swim trunks, the two headed down to the pool. All the way, they laughed and joked as any other father and son would. Jonathan felt oddly happy.

Brent turned to Jonathan, who seemed almost afraid to go into the pool. "You afraid it'll be cold?" he teased, threatening to push him in with a movement of his hands.

He nodded. "Yeah, ever since we went to R.B. Winter State Park and Mom forced me in the water."

"Let's just see how cold it is!" he laughed, picking Jonathan up. Quickly, he threw him into the pool, making a great splash.

Jonathan came up gasping for air and laughing. "Hey Dad, get in here!" he called.

Brent shook his head playfully. "Uh-uh, I ain't going in there. It looks too cold." He then burst out in laughter.

"Just get in here!" Jonathan demanded, eyes shining.

Brent shuffled his feet like a small child, then looked at his son with puppy-dog eyes. "Only if you promise to throw _me _in," he said in a childish voice.

Jonathan started laughing like crazy. "I can't throw you in, you're as big as a whale towards me!" he shouted.

"Yeah, you're just a little guy."

"Hey!" He crossed his arms and scrunched up his face.

Brent finally went in and began playing heartily with his son.

"Dad, can we race from this end to the other?" Jonathan wondered, pointing to the other end of the pool.

"Sure, but you can get a headstart, considering you're so small." He smiled, then patted Jonathan's back.

Jonathan began swimming as fast as his body woukd take him. He looked behind him to see his father gaining on him, so he tried going faster.

Brent reached out and grabbed Jonathan's leg. He pulled him back, then sped by him.

"Dad, that's cheating!" Jonathan cried.

Brent whirled around. "You didn't say I couldn't cheat."

"It's a no-brainer!" he shot back. "Dad, I'm gonna go rest, I'm tired."

Brent nodded, then followed his son to a wooden bench.

Jonathan took a seat, surprisingly not hurting as he did so. "Dad, we can leave," he whispered.

"Whatcha mean?"

"Right now, we can leave Mom. Dad, I know she'll beat me when we get back. I'm afraid. Do you know how much it hurts?" He rubbed his legs. "It hurts more than you'd ever know. Probably something like how it hurts to be burning in hell."

"Can we change the subject?" Brent was quick to say.

"But why?"

"Because I don't like this kind of talk. Besides, we're supposed to be having fun." He tapped gently on Jonathan's shoulder. "Hey, don't feel so down. We're getting out of here sometime."

Jonathan scooted away from him. "I want out TODAY!" he shouted, sounding like a small child.

"Jonathan, maybe it's time we go." He yanked Jonathan up and walked him back up to the cabin. He decided to go in the hot tub instead of change clothes.

Jonathan opened the cabin door and hurried into the bathroom. Quickly, he yanked off his swim shorts and flung them on the towl bar. _Man, I forgot to get my clothes!_ he thought as he looked about the bathroom. _Mom's bound to be outside the door-just waiting to beat my behind! _He slowly creaked open the door, and to his surprise, nobody was there.

He hurry ran to his bags and picked up his jeans and green-striped shirt. When he backed up, his body bumped into something. Did he dare look behind him?

Angry hands clamped his shoulders and flung him to the hard floor.

Jonathan let out a surprised cry, then scooted to the corner of the room.

A dark shadow hovered over him, then lifted up a hand.

Jonathan placed his hands in front of his face, hoping to sheild some of the strikes.

Furious punches and boot-kicks lunged at him like angry bees.

Jonathan moaned and groaned at the blows, but could not stop them. Tears landed on the floor, sounding like giant bombs. _Jesus, please help me!_

Suddenly, Kim pulled him up and pushed him into the bathroom. Abruptly, she locked the door. She turned to him like some physco, eyes ferocious. "Get in the tub!" she demanded, threatening to kick him in the privets with her boot.

Jonathan obediently cowarded into the tub, fearing the worst. _Please Jesus, come and save me now, _he prayed, closing his eyes.

Kim angrily turned the knob for the cold water, then let the water run.

Once the tub was almost completely full, she turned it off. She then grabbed his neck and forced his head under the frigid water. While doing so, she was trying to strangle him.

Jonathan fought with his legs, but in return got hard blows in the eyes. He watched with fearful eyes as she let go of his neck and pulled off her shirt.

Kim soon stood before him-completely naked.

_Jesus, are You there? Please, I need Your help now! I have a bad feeling she's gonna force me into something I ain't comfortable with! Jesus please, take her away!_

Kim stepped into the tub, seemingly unaware of the temperature of the water. She got down on her knees, then grabbed his small, wrinkled legs. Without hesitation, she pulled him closer to her.

Jonathan kicked and screamed as she tried to force his privet into her vagina hole. "Please, leave me alone!" he begged.

Kim tugged harder on him, nearly killing him. "Mommy wants some fun!" she yelled in his terrified face.

Jonathan swung a fist into the air, trying to get her-anywhere. _Please, don't let her rape me,_ he begged to the Lord.

Kim slapped his cheek when he punched her in the face. "Mommy's gonna make you have some fun!" she screeched.

Jonathan took some water and splashed it into her eyes.

Kim fell back and held her hands over her eyes.

"Yes!" he whispered, climbing out the tub. Quickly, he fumbled with the bathroom door lock, then ran out on the porch to his father-naked as a jaybird.

"What the heck!" Brent yelled when he saw his naked son.

"Mom. . .she tried to. . .oh Dad, please help me!" he bawled, falling to his knees beside the hot tub.

"She tried to do what?" he demanded, standing up.

Jonathan broke down his sobs.

Kim soon burst out the door, naked as well. "There you are, Jonnythan!" she exclaimed.

"Kim, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Brent hollered, looking at her hideously-ugly, naked body.

Kim marched up to Jonathan and pulled him up by the ear. "We have some unfinished business, little mister!" she reminded.

Jonathan reached his arm out to his father, trying to grab him before he was dragged away. "Daddy, please stop her!" he pleaded, tears falling from his clear blue eyes.

"Kim, aren't you being too mean?" he asked her.

"No, Mommy knows how to discipline a child!" she shot back. "This one needs a good lesson from Mommy!"

Jonathan looked into her big, brown eyes and made puppy-dog eyes. "Mommy, please don't hurt me!" he begged. "Please, I'll be good! Lock me away, stop feeding me completely, just please don't force me to 'do it!'"

"Mommy never hurts you, just punishes you!" she yelled.

Jonathan's chin quivered. "You're right," he mumbled.

"Mommy knows she is."

"Are you still gonna do you-know-what?" he asked, praying for a no.

Kim shook her head. "No, not now. Don't feel free though, it'll come soon enough. Mommy's tired and needs a nap." She then strode off, leaving her naked son shaking.

Jonathan hurried inside, dressed, then rested on the floor. After about half an hour of daydreaming, he fell into a troubled slumber.

Jonathan woke to the sound of his mouther humming. He slowly opened his eyes, then jumped up. "What the heck?" he screamed, leaping out of her arms. "What were you doing?"

"Rocking you," she replied.

"Mom, I'm ten." He gently brushed some 'Kim Germs' off his sleeve.

"You looked like a little baby sleeping, so Mommy decided to rock you," she said ever so peacefully.

Jonathan gave her the strangest look. He took a step back, then stared worriedly at her. "Are you by any chance taking drugs?" he asked in an uncertain voice.

"No, silly!" she laughed. "Mommy just loves her little boy!"

Jonathan felt himself roll his eyes. "Oh really?" he said cockily.

Kim nodded. "You are Mommy's precious gift."

"Wish that were true," he whispered. "Why do you hit me then?"

Kim patted a seat next to her on the couch. "Come sit by Mommy, and Mommy will tell you."

Jonathan shook his head, then turned to face the door. Gingerly, he laid his hand on the door-just in case he'd have to make a run for it.

"Mommy won't strike you, Mommy promises," she told him with a reassuring smile.

Jonathan continued shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't trust you," he said meekly. "Mom, I wanna believe you, but you've hurt me so many times before."

Kim suddenly appeared hurt. "Mommy understands," she sighed.

A pang of guilt filled Jonathan's body. _Why do I feel guilty for hurting her feelings, she's hurt me millions of times?_ He took his hand off the wooden lever and stepped forward.

Kim chest seeped with pride as he walked slowly up to her. _Yes, he trusts Mommy! _she exclaimed inside her head.

Jonathan took a seat, then winced a little. _Forgot I had that bruise._ "Why?"

She wrapped her arm around his neck, then forced his head back. "Because it's what Mommy wants to do!" she replied, laughing wildly.

Jonathan did not try to make her stop. He figured if she was going to kill him, now was as good a time as any. _Jesus, are you there? I'm soon gonna be with you-I hope._

After a few minutes of suffering, Kim pushed him forward and swung her legs to the floor. She paused for a moment, looked at her son, then strode off to the fridge in search of some apple juice.

Jonathan lay on the couch for hours, trying to get over his most-recent near-death experience. Fear stung at his heart-the fear of a future raping. He couldn't get that out of his mind, yet he wanted to so badly.

"Hey buddy, time to go get your shower," Brent said as he walked in the door. "You need to look all nice and clean to go fishing tomorrow."

"I'm goin' fishing?" he asked, suddenly perking up.

Brent shrugged. "You'll at least be going with the family. I hope I can persuade your mother to allow you to try fishing." He patted Jonathan's knee. "Be careful."

Jonathan nodded, then pulled his sleeping T-shirt and pajama pants out of his small bag. Afterwards, he locked the bathroom door and took his shower. It felt so good to have _warm_ water running down his aching and exhausted body.

When he stepped out the shower, he made sure he didn't leave any water on the floor, then dressed. He stepped up to the mirror and picked up his toothbrush.

The boy jumped back in surprise when he saw two black eyes and purple strangle marks on his neck. His vision blurred as he tried to keep back the tears. _Jesus, come on, where are you? Look at me! Mom hurts me like she's a tormentor and I'm a burning person! Are you there?_

The next morning, Jonathan awoke from a rooster at the petting zoo. He quickly hopped up off the floor and dressed in a black shirt and red sport's pants.

After going through his daily rutine, he sat by his brothers' bedroom door. He had nothing better to do, and his mother may holler if he made a lot of noise.

Twiddling his thumbs, Jonathan daydreamed of a life where he was loved deeply by his family. Come to think of it, he was daydreaming the life of Norman-a loving, God-fearing family.

_Norman, I wish I had your family. They all seem so happy, and they know where they belong. I don't belong with my family, I belong somewhere else. I can't exactly put my finger on it, but I know I belong somewhere else. A place where I am loved. _He wasn't sure where he would have to be in order to belong, but he figured that maybe it was with the Mennonites. They all seemed so kind and loving, yet they didn't seem to like him very much. Maybe Mennonites weren't the right group, but perhaps another Christian group.

A sudden stirring brought Jonathan back to reality.

Kim stood up, stretched, then headed off to the bathroom for a bath. When the bath water was being tapped, Jonathan relaxed.

He tiptoed over to Casey's bag and slipped out a Dove chocolate bar. Hungrily, he thrust it into his mouth and savored every bite. A sense of delight and warmth flowed down his spine. He closed his eyes momentarily, then made sure no one was watching him. Quickly, he cupped his hands together and let a little bit of water go into them, then drank the water.

Kim came stomping into the room, eyes furious. "Who was messing with the water?" she demanded, waking up Brent.

Jonathan's fear-filled eyes gave him away.

Naked, Kim forcefully grabbed his little arm and tugged him along with her into the bathroom.

Casey bounded out of the bedroom when he heard the door slam shut and someone scream. "Dad, what the hell is going on?" he demanded, eyes glued to the bathroom door.

"Please, I'm sorry!" he heard Jonathan yell in a terrified voice.

Casey ran up to the door and flung it open. "Mom, what the hell do you think you're doing to my little brother?" he screamed.

Kim froze in her position, embarrassed. She had Jonathan's privet in her hand, and her breasts were in his face. "Nothing," she replied.

Casey eyed her worriedly. "Tell me what you were trying to do!" he hollered, making Kim cower down a little.

"Mommy was going to teach him a lesson." She looked down at Jonathan. "Pull your pants up."

Jonathan slapped her hand off him, then yanked his jeans up. After buttoning and zipping them, he stood beside his big brother. For the first time, someone was standing up to "Mommy."

"Do you think sexually abusing your children is considered discipline?" he wondered, clenching his fists tightly together. "If you do, then may I do the honors of disciplining _you _in the same manner?" _I hope she don't think I'll actually rape her, gross!_

Kim glared ruefully at Casey. "You aren't the parent, Mommy is." She raised a hand, then prepared to slap Casey.

Casey grabbed her hand in time and forced it over her shoulder. He didn't dare stop until he heard a snap and Kim crying.

_Jesus, are You there? Could it really be that You just helped me? You seem to never listen to me! Thank You so much! _He gave Casey a smile. "Thanks man."

Casey nodded, then cracked his knuckles. "That oughtta keep her out of your hair for the next few months or so. Heck, maybe she'll stay away for the rest of the summer!"

Kim was rushed to the hospital some time later and was told she had a broken arm. She would need to stay in the hospital for about a week, then she was allowed to go home to her family with a cast.

They did not finish their camping trip that day, but it was well worth it to them all. Kim finally got what she deserved!

**Chapter 17**

**While Mom's Gone. . .**

Since Kim was still in the hospital, somebody needed to do all the household chores, plus juggle the family. The most feminine boy in the home was Andrew, and he was most glad to be a replacement Kim.

"Hey 'Mom,' can we have scrambled eggs for breakfast?" Casey asked his brother once he entered the kitchen.

Andrew gave him the duck lips he inherited from Kim, then waddled over to the fridge. "We will eat what I want, or else!" he replied, acting like a total jerk.

"Or else what?" Jonathan wondered as he entered the kitchen.

"You stay out of it! Jeez, can't people mind their own business?" Andrew was always the type to complain and act miserable.

Jonathan rolled his eyes, then went into the living room to watch cartoons with his dad. "Hey Dad, can we go to Larry's for supper tonight?" he whispered.

"I donno, Andrew has big stuff for us planned," Brent sighed, glaring at his older son.

"Yeah, but his cooking sucks worse than Mom's!" Jonathan laughed, eyes bright.

Andrew waddled into the living room, face red. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!" he growled, coming Jonathan's way.

"Dude, what's wrong with you? Can't you take a joke?" Jonathan demanded, giving Brent an odd glance.

"That wasn't funny!" Andrew shot back. He then took Jonathan by the arms and pulled him off the couch. Afterwards, he forced the boy's hands behind his back and tied them together. "There, now you are arrested for assaulting a police officer!"

Jonathan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Andrew wanted to be a police officer when he grew up, and always pretended to be one. When he really thought about it, it was pretty funny.

"Andrew, just get back to making breakfast," Brent ordered in an annoyed voice.

Andrew gave him a mean look, then did as his father told him. Andrew's favorite breakfast was oatmeal without any sugar or anything, which everyone else hated.

Jonathan made his hands into claws and pretended to squeeze Andrew's head until it popped. _You're a future Kim, I know ya are. I can tell an abusive personality. Always talkin' 'bout killin' and such. You're gonna be exactly like her. _

"Jonathan, settle down, your face is getting purple," Brent warned.

Jonathan let out a giant groan. "How the heck am I supposed to do that? I thought that I'd be able to have emotions once Mom's gone!"

"You, young man, will not talk to me like that! Do you want to be grounded until she returns?" _Now why did I go and do that? He's always being punished for one reason or another._

Jonathan shook his head. Without speaking, he walked passed his father and went into his bedroom. He jumped onto his bed, then grabbed his pillow. He stuffed his face into and screamed. It was the only way to let all his anger out. His father couldn't hear that too, could he?

The door creaked open and in came a foolish-looking Brent. "Hey buddy, I'm sorry for yelling at you. You just can't yell at your father like that. Do you understand?"

Jonathan did not look up, but he did nod. Brent was one of the last people he wanted to talk to right now.

"You okay?" he asked, noticing Jonathan wasn't moving.

He nodded and mumbled a reply. _Can't you just leave me alone?_

Brent sat down on his bedside and tapped on his arm. "Jonathan, look at me."

Jonathan sat up and pulled his knees to his chest. "What?"

"Your mother's gone, be happy! You won't be starved, beaten, or anything!" he exclaimed, a smile on his face. "If you really wanna, we'll go to Larry's."

Jonathan touched his bruised eyes. "I forgot about my eyes. What will we do about them?" He felt a pang of disappointment soar through his body.

"I can pick up our stuff and bring it here," Brent suggested, trying as hard as he could to please his young son.

Jonathan grinned from ear to ear. "Hey yeah, then they won't see my face!" he cried.

"That's my boy. How about we go out and eat our breakfast?" He and his son moved slowly over to the kitchen, chattering as they went.

"I didn't make enough for him," Andrew interrupted once they entered the kitchen.

Brent's face was red with anger. "Fine then, _I'll _make him something to eat. Son, what would you like to eat?"

Jonathan thought for a moment, relishing the moment. "Hmm, pancakes would be good," he decided. "If you're sure you wanna make 'em for me."

Brent tousled his hair and smiled. "'Course I do, you're my son."

Tyler waited eagerly at the breakfast table for his breakfast. He felt as though he was actually important enough to have a good meal! When did he get this lucky any other time?

Andrew scowled at Jonathan when Brent put the warm plate before him. _I'll be telling Mommy about this. . ._

Jonathan ate contently, being sure not to look like a hog. It'd been so long since he'd had a good meal, and he wanted to eat it all up.


End file.
